Each morning, I woke to perfection.
Delivered a sticky, golden brown breakfast created for me with care.
Whipped cream and chocolate topping off the delicious confection,
I believed it to be an act of kindness so rare.
Each day, accepting your perfectly made waffle,
Eating it up, never stopping once to see,
Slipped in poison, with intentions quite awful.
Your poison was affecting my ability to flee.
Each week, the dosage increased,
No one knowing what was causing my illness.
Except of course my wicked and beloved beast,
That hoped to see me one day lifeless.
Each month, I became sicker, inching closer to death.
Taking in the sweet poison with gratitude,
Blissfully unaware your perfect waffles would force me to take my final breath.
I trusted you, loved you, yet you still poisoned my food.