Every morning, I make my favorite dish.
I sprinkle in the ingredients.

A dash of happiness first,
I add in some glee and joy.
A pinch of my burning anger.
Plenty of sarcasm for when I act coy.

It’s been awhile since I made a change,
And I’m happy with what I got
From my small cottage home,
To this nice cooking pot

I mix it all up,
and create my mood of the day,
I take it all in before I head off
After all I must earn my pay

It mixture is a delicious stew,
A flavorful concoction of mine
It tasted different everyday
But was always divine

Yet, today it was different,
Not as spicy you see,
I had knocked something else in there
I knew that it wasn’t just me.

It was a down feeling,
Like a watered down drink,
It just doesn’t taste the same
No matter what you try or think

But I continued on with work,
Until next morning when I woke
I was making my newest batch,
When came forward this strange bloke.

“Add this to your mood,”
He said, “Change it up a bit.”
Thinking it could help the mistake,
Of yesterday I admit…

I added his blue powder,
A small pinch is all.
Yet little did I know,
This would be my fall.

I noticed as I added,
A pinch every morning,
That things started to mellow,
And actually, become quite boring.

And slowly but surely,
My tastebuds started to change
Things started to taste different,
They started to rearrange.

This morning I tasted my dish.
It tasted like Mashed potatoes.

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