Dinner Is Served

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You lead me on
Like a horse pulling a carriage
You lead me on
Like a child, pulling on a sled
You lead me on
Like a piece of string
Attached to a block of cheese
Leading on this mouse into thinking
Dinner is served
You lead me on
Like the smell of fresh gingerbread
Coming from the kitchen on Christmas
Only to find out that your sister already
Ate all of it herself
Like a teacher giving her so-called pet
An “A-“ instead of a hundred percent
You lead me on
Like I’m your dog
And you hold the leash,
Controlling my every move
I’m surprised you don’t control when I
Bark
You lead me on
Constantly
And I’m tired of it
You lead me on,
Or I suppose
You did lead me on
But now, it’s over
I’m not a carriage anymore,
And you’re not the horse, pulling me
On, forward
I’m not a sled, and you’re not a child
Though you may act like one
You are not that golden piece of cheese,
And I’m certainly not a mouse
And guess what? I don’t want that
Gingerbread that I used to crave anymore
And I don’t care if dinner is served
Because, quite frankly
I’m no longer hungry.





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