you've faded away like the ashes
and whirled about in the air
like the
smoke
that
escapes
my
mouth

I made some soup.
But it’s not for you.
It’s for me.
I don’t want you to change it.
It’s my soup.
Some people want to add some basil or maybe a little oregano.
But it’s my soup.
Some people think it’s too salty.
One person thought it’s too sweet.
But I told ‘em
f--k you.
I won’t change a thing.
It’s my soup.
Someone even tried to stir the ***
I grabbed the ladle
and bopped him on the head
I told him it was my soup.
Someone told me to turn up the heat
For what reason?
It’s a perfect temperature.
Someone else told me to turn down the heat.
I told him that would make it too cold.
It’s my soup.
Someone even told me I had to take some ingredients out.
But I love it the way it is.
It’s my soup.
Someone even tried to take a sip
The nerve!
It’s my soup.
Make your own.
Someone said I overcooked it.
I told her to leave me alone.
I like the smokey flavor.
To my horror, someone even tried to throw it out.
I grabbed the *** and put it back on the stove
Where it belongs.
This is my soup.
This soup…
**is my life.