The Wedding Cake

By Serena Machado

I ice it up for hours long,

Make it look as huge as I could, As asked by

the bride and the groom,

It was all white and gorgeous, whipped and royal,

With ganaches and glazes,

With beautiful curves and edges,

All ready for the praises.

I flaunter, I whirl and I topple,

Topple againsts cabinet, rushing down are the mugs and spoons,

Shattered and shivered all around

I have had no longer the cake I carved,

For I carved in the morning, before leaving, after reaching,

before they come and after they leave,

and before bed and yet again the next morning.

Suddenly realised I never got a dress,

rather I got fitted in

For I, was asked to be the Queen in chess,

Every buy was an inch less,

Each day was so much pressure,

Masking and casting to get a bit lighter

My skin was deep within, now looking brighter.

Is it the cake or is it me?

Should I fake it or let it free?

The world is harsh and so am I.

Oh dear, fly high.

I wipe it quick before someone gets me a sorbiquet,

Lumps and mess yet it's the same

I wash it off, off the face and look again

A shade darker, but a heart clamer and here I exclaim

My Pretty Own Self!!.

By Serena Machado