the life of gingerbread

Some day in December alone in his house in Canada or some place thereabouts lived a boy known as ginger from boy to all shame ate the cookies that shared in his name gingerbread men a holiday treat enuf to make to anyone's Christmas complete happiness found at fourhundread degrees but farenheights dumb america please. iced and sprinkled wow these look great only perfection allowed on this plate but hey what gives this one is a mess throw it away trust me its for the best. everything needs shelter a fact that is known so surplus of dough to fashion there home but one stops to consider something quite grim is he made of house or is house made of him. in this gingerbread world everyone one needs a purpose and this land would certainly serve there's the sweetest of smiles on each cookies face through terror would find itself swiftly replaced. off snaps a leg say goodbye to your toes i’m sorry friends this far as you go dunked into milk and then left there for dead he ate both the arms and then had the head the life of a cookie is not one desired it's getting late and boy am i tired thus ends the poem my story complete and i just want to wow Christmas is neat.