Pity Pie (Poetry)

I baked myself a pity pie
filled with the dregs of sorrow
glazed it grey as gloomy sky
same menu planned the morrow

It had a bitter aftertaste
that made it tough to swallow
inedible and left to waste
the crust proved almost hollow

I watched small ugly lumps congeal
raw disappointment’s gristle
a gruesome kind of cooked-up meal
shed skins complete with bristle

I scraped the carcass from my plate
sour grapes the heart’s undoing
resolved that cheerful thoughts create
more pleasing food for chewing

My diet nowadays is free
of all that’s sadness-tainted
I crave the happy calorie
in puddings close-acquainted