There’s only a wrapper or maybe a shell
that will tell of the story that others know well.
I reached for the texture, of that once smooth coat,
and knew that this friend would no longer gloat.
Greatness was seen, within that little dream
of reaching the market of people with glee.
Yet that dream was just swallowed, when that shell became hallow;
and no more to say, was all that was said.
It may now be dead, without that old flicker;
my hunger destroyed all my chocolaty snickers.