I'm just a piece of cake,
so sweet and light,
That men can taste, a delectable delight.
A sweet baked cake, moist,
and oh so fine, Easy to get by parched men,
craving a sign.
I am desired by many, heinous,
they may be, But not valued as a cake,
it's plain to see.
A desperate cake, craving attention's grace,
Needing a pastry chef to embrace.
Wanting to be decorated, to shine and gleam,
To be cherished and adored, like in a dream.
Waiting to be a worthy piece of cake,
In the end, that's all I truly ache.
