Never Ending Cinnamon Bun

An original poem, by RB~

Never Ending Cinnamon bun

What if I had, the best thing yet, a never ending cinnamon bun?
That swirled around in circles forever, with never ending fun.
Sweet and sticky, it looks so good, my lips smack with delight.
I bring it near and I open up wide, and then I take the first bite.
My teeth sink in deep and bite off a hunk, of the lovely scrumptious dough.
I want to savor the delicious flavor, so I chew it up good and slow.
I cannot believe the wonderful luck, and the good fortune I have found.
I want to eat the whole thing by myself, so I dare not make a sound.
Bite after luscious bite, I'm enjoying the wonderfully yummy taste.
Letting crumbs fall all around me, I am not worried about any waste.
I can eat forever and ever, so I know for sure, that I won't reach the core.
And the thought is so good and makes me happy, that I gobble up even more.
There is no stopping me, I'm very excited so I charge on ahead like a bull.
But what's that now? In the core of my gut, I start to feel full?
Innoring my tummy, I decide on the spot, I must press on ahead.
It's not in charge, nor is it my boss, I reason with my head.
Gulping down more, I think I'm in trouble, as the room seems to be spinning.
My brain may be the one in charge, but my stomach sure feels like its winning.
Slowing down now, I realize with sorrow, that I do not feel so good.
Nauseas and sick, with my stomach bulging, I'd stop eating if I could.
But I'm hooked so good, I cannot move, like a fish that's taken the bait.
I notice as I look at myself in the mirror, that I've started putting on weight.
Bigger I grow, I eat more and more, and cannot find the will to stop.
My legs won't hold me, its too much weight, so on my side I flop.
Big as an elephant, I lay there limp, and know that I'm really caught.
But if I'm going to survive, and get back to normal, I must end this thought.
Of the cinnamon bun, great as it was, and as warm and good as it tasted.
If I don't stop now, thinking of it, I will surely forever be wasted.
So out of my mind, leaving the thought, away goes the great sticky bun.
And I shrink back to normal, slimming down fast, the battle seems to be won.
I sit back in my chair and let out a sigh, and then I look at my gut.
And wonder out loud, and say with a chuckle, "How bout a giant donut?"