My stomach is a bottomless pit
A chasm through which all sustenance will pass
Metabolism overworked into exhaustion
But truthfully, stopping has never been an option
Determined to make a name for myself
Aspiring for the highest glory
For the most food consumed at a buffet
My name carved into history
Night has descended and so have I
Upon the grounds of my ascension
Pitiful staff are simply unprepared for me
This corral will be anything but golden
“Now I am become appetite, destroyer of buffets”
(Plucking morsel after morsel to decimate the food supply
The chef and cooks cannot keep up – demand outpacing supply
Sickening synthesis of gluttony and cunningness
Staff and patrons are horrified – his hunger is endless)
You might call me a patron saint
But in reality I’m the devil
Manners and consideration be damned
My cup shall indeed runneth over
Every meal that passes through my teeth
Does nothing to fill the void inside
Still I may yet become a legend
There’s a dining room for me in hell