Twisted Baker

The baker man toiled in his shop

With maggots, worms, and flesh atop

A twisted grin upon his face

As he created a dish of disgrace

.

He mixed and kneaded with great care

The vilest ingredients he could bear

The stench was foul, the sight obscene

A gingerbread man made of rot and spleen

.

He baked his creation with precision

As if his work was his religion

And when it was done, he stood back to admire

The grotesque treat that would surely inspire

.

But as he reached out to take a bite

The gingerbread man put up a fight

With maggots wriggling, it came to life

And escaped the baker's mortal knife