By 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
