I chopped my life

left slices everywhere

(a slice of cake for every soul I met)

I kept my other lives in the attic of the shell

(snails have such a fascinating house)

Slices of the snail’s life carved in the shell

(some are so old I simply can’t remember them)

So many slice receivers I forgot

(counting has never been my favorite cake)

Leftovers in the attic remind me of some,

(but still I can’t remember how we met)

(I find their traces everywhere)

Or just remind me of the pain.

(Maybe I should just bake another cake.)

Image -source: https://forums.marvelheroes.com/discussion/209684/how-small-are-the-cake-slices