Bread
If someone said, “You can’t eat bread,”
I don’t think I’d survive;
For what I dread’s not being dead
But sad when I’m alive.
My morning meal would not appeal
Without a seeded bagel
Or I could deal, to keep it real,
With toast I could finagle.
Yet I’d be blue if some taboo
Encouraged the assumption
That food I view as yum to chew
Would fade from my consumption.
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