Tart

Poor little tart

Bright cherry red

Sitting in a pudding

With custard on her head

Spoon came down so brightly

Broke through her crust

Scooped up a piece of her

Without a moments fuss

Into a cavern wide

Placed upon a tongue

She melted into pieces

Got stuck upon a lung

Hours turned to minutes

Clinging on to life

Salvia was her enemy

For which she paid the price

Slowly down the gullet

Slid through the stomach walls

Reflecting at that moment

How life was very cruel