It can be dark; brown as earth, yet smooth, smooth as the finest of garments.
Imprisoned in a clear, plastic cell. It is but a fetus; cut off from the world so cold.
It is pure; untainted.
The veneer is peeled away, it is exposed.
It flows into the mouths of the masses,
It penetrates their being.
The dragons of the world are vanquished for a fleeting moment
As it rolls across one’s palate.
A void is filled by rich chocolate;
It engulfs the woes of man, suffocating them.
The Well Has Run Dry!!!
Its sweet nectar extracted.
All is as it was… Bleak… Sorrowful…