A bowl is placed before my face
I make well of what I have
A cup of milk, an ounce of vanilla
Which should go first?
I wonder in such a debate
Between two minds within my own

The milk shall win
First is the milk and after the flour, the vanilla
The aroma fills the air, the smell of success
Another component has balanced the mix
An expected issue in a clash
A new issue gained from the balance

A new quest begins with a new foe
In which time is he
A fire is lit beneath the rival cake
Each second a cause for what’s to come
With each second gained
More should you announce the loss that could be blamed?


A brittle battle between the batch and I
I fight my battles big or small
Success could be denounced in a second
But as easy is failure
A cracked egg is needed to make
To make the cake in which who can be proud?

Ding Ding, a bell rings
In the echo are the people who gather
Crowds in holler wait for a champ
Who has won? Who is champ? Is there one?
One quick sniff and the winner is sure
I pull out the perfect rival