Oh you supremely cheesy snack
That is often taken for granted.
How you fulfill our salty palate.
You that are baked and made
With only real cheese;
Middle proudly popping up
Like a pillow made to rest
On our waiting tongue.

You are the memory of a drunken night
With friends; stomach rumbling at three
In the morning for a crunchy refreshment.

You are the non-perishable superior
To that from which you came.
Each bite of your deliciously square-ness
Our mouth becomes a microwave
For the savory cheese to melt in;
A shower in a never ending
Geyser of cheese, each crumb
As satisfying as the last.

You are left to lie in your
Dark cardboard coffin
Until you are set free
By a hungry fan
Only to be digested.