There you sit, forgotten.
Heading way south of rotten.
Because I ate an egg and cheese burrito this morning,
I didn't clean you well,
and there you sit scorning,
The fact i didn't wash you with dish washing gel...
What am I to do?
You probably smell terrible,
and i don't like things of your ilk,
You know, smelling of long forgotten milk,
so maybe I'll leave you for tomorrow,
when in my sorrow,
I'll pour you out
and without a doubt,
hold my breath
so as not to smell,
what I should have finished
yesterday with a groan and grimace.