Kitchen nightmares

Another attempt at poetry.

I splashed around the dirty room,

Dropping my knife onto my shoe.

Losing a toe, some dignity and a lot of pride.

I finally made some hot chocolate for tonight.

 

I couldn’t believe, the nightmares in there,

The smell of my burning skin in the heavy air.

As I melted onto the floor and grunted in pain,

That devilish pie was still laughing in my face.

 

I never came back, after that day,

Mainly because of my inability to bake.