As melted treats pass through the esophagus, with remaining temperature warming the heart as well as the stomach.
Soon, it was found to be a jail without bars;
Yet hardly any kid can escape. The warm temperature engraved their memory for good. Since then,
They were expected to mould a castle, a palace, or even better a Babylon Tower out of the toxic substance, which they could neither afford nor dare to dream of a decline.
The inner desire of freedom prompted a few to struggle a bleeding way out, although traumatized body and soul may take an entire life to heal. They roam and roam until finding others at large.
Some others remained perplexed how a lovely wonderland could suddenly turned into a physical burden and a mental house arrest. And ''too much thinking'' will eventually turn them schizophrenic, according to doze prescribers.
Still others were long too addicted to have any second thoughts. Digesting what they do not need and completeing the dull tasks with which they are bequeathed seem as if mothership calling.
Was it tremor or shaking,
She could not tell.
Getting through this very long day was,
Whatever it took,
The only wish and one thing
She was focusing on.
''Did anyone notice it?''
''No. I'm not hungry, but whatever...''
''Was it that obvious?''
''How many hours left?''
''This headache is killing me.''
''Calm down. Only a few more hours to go.''
''Inhale in, Breathe out, yes, just keep doing this.''
''Off to the ground in any minute soon, you'll be fine.''
''Hang in! Almost there.''
Then the body was suddenly not hers.
Neither the hands, nor the legs.
Suppressing you-know-what only ''adds fuel to the fire.''
Gobbling up the tablet, then she waits,
For the fierce fiery dragon to die out.
''One Little, Two Little, Three Little Indians,
Four Little, Five Little, Six Little Indians,
Seven Little, Eight Little, Nine Little Indians,
Ten Little Indian Boys.''