Morning sorrow

Funny poem, although it's subjective.

I wake in the morn, so bright and early
With my tummy a grumblin'.
My eyes dart to the pantry
Where I open the door
And grab the box
I open it up
A scream escapes!
To my dismay, my luck's ran out
The crunchy golden bits 'o' gold I once so longed for,
Left me now.
Consumed by the monster
The one I fear
His name is myself
He causes my pain
For now I'm let down
With nothing to eat,
But a single pop-tart