Don’t touch my pretzels you mad man

I came in today, left feeling surprised
My pretzels were gone away, done
They left me for another mouth
Fatty came and ate them all up good
Why must he be drawn to my stash
You know it hurts me through and through
You leave nothing but crumbs and salt
Mostly salt with some crusty burnt ends
You leave me no choice but to defend
So I filled my hand with salt clinched tightly
A heap grasped and filtering through my fingers
I go find this said individual with furious intentions
I smile lightly at him with hand cocked and loaded
Soon I notice his angry, surprised laughter
I leave him there brushing the salt from his hair
Shoulders covered in burnt crusty powder
Self esteem now checked and balanced
Pride hurt and point taken
Leave my shit alone you fool or prepare yourself
Prepare your self to be salted
A bit of advise
Leave my pretzels alone

I don’t know why I get so irritated when people eat my food without asking first. So I thought I would write a poem about it rather than really acting on my irritation. I bring stuff into the office and share. The one thing I leave in my office and away from filthy unwashed hands, ends up in them somehow. Thieves I tell ya. Nothing but thieves. Brilliant moves. Karma is a...