I once had a cake so good I wrote a poem about it.

Siren Cake

In a small town, nowhere in particular, there lay a corner shop.
And from that shop, throughout all day, came out the smells of cake.
People came in to have some pie, have a drink, or eat a muffin top.
“Hey young lady, what is the recipe, for this cookie that you bake?” The question always asked, and asked it always will be, for the lady kept her tongue.

Along the years, a rumor grew, and swiftly into legend it has spun.
It was said, by many men, that she could bake a siren cake.
A cake so fair, a cake so grand, a cake filled little bits of fun.
With smells so strong, no man alive, could stand what she would make.
The taste would be, or so I’ve heard, that of golden sun.
The word has traveled, the myth gone far, and so it came to Gildrid Mar.
Mar was a man of practice, a man of arm, a man of men.
He would lead lesser men, to take up arms, and go afar.

This brave strong man, had a plan, a plan to win a war right then.
He packed his things, and called his men, and off he went to see his star.
The men came in, and on the front, Mar his arms as grand as a lake.
“I just baked some muffins” she simply said, “would you like some?”
He waved his hand, “I’m here for cake, the legends say that you can make.”
She turned aside, and shook her head, she knew this day would come.
“I want a crate, I want ten more, of this legendary siren cake.”
Mar was willing, Mar was manly, Mar would force her to bake the cake.

The young lady, with no choice left, went into the back to bake.
The smell was strong, the men were weak, they pushed to get in line.
Not an hour passed, and by that bell, a fight broke the bakery’s sign.
Time passed by, and men kept pushing, but Mar kept strong and steady.
When the cake came out, the men went crazy, the men turned deadly.
Mar declared, “We eat no cake, we keep this for the war!”
But the smell was strong, and men were weak, and Mar could not grab hold.
Once one ate, they all had to, and Mar could not stop them with roars.

With a blink of an eye, and a hundred men, no more cake was left to behold.
They sent her back, into the back, to bake another fast!
But they knew the taste, they knew the smell, they had to be first for more.
And by the time, she came out front, the men were down to their last.
And when the cake showed up, and in their sight, the men were dead on the floor.

It's pretty terrible, I know. But I'm amused by the fact I had such a good cake I wrote a poem about it.
I also threw up cause I are too much cake.

This cake seems pretty similar to what I had.