Twinkie Eulogy

There's a foodstuff that we once loved. Although vanished from our tongues,
Lingers duty to speak truly lest it's memory goes unsung.
A confection's retrospection, a post-mortem in desert,
And a pastry laid to waste. We must remember thousands hurt,

Every baker and each maker of pre-packaged snacks and sweets,
All who's faithful operation of the tools and factories,
Has gone silent, as a tyrant's glove that stifles righteous scream.
Hope gone dead as rising bread has, at the ceasing of machines.

In it's absence live the famished, starved of pride and livelihood,
In it's wake lie the mistakes of those who didn't when they could,
And the few men who abused them, frittered trust, and layered fat,  
As they pillaged, sucking fillings dry until the cake collapsed. 

Now there's nothing, save for one thing, just an empty box of crumbs,
All leftovers been picked over once the rats were called to come.
And a rotten golden coffin made of spongy yellow treat,
That is stuffed with rancid fluff where once a nation's heart did beat.