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Sep 2010
I remember when I was a potato,
About to die
By the fry-
-ing pan,
And that was the devious,
Devilish,
Fiendish,
Plan.

They wanted me
Like lust from their bellies,
Their pillow lint belly buttons
Begged for my meat,
Calling for my ****
By boiling, rolling, heat.

I did what I could,
With my potato eye!
I rolled like Ollie
Away from the fry!

Went off the counter
Landed with a smack,
Swore to my potato skin
That I ain't going back!

I rolled across the floor
Right under their nose!
A small child saw me
Said to his ma,
"Mr.potato head, there he goes!"

I soldiered on,
Got dirt in my eye!
But swore to myself,
Never the fry!

So I was near the door
Rolling a lopsided way,
I could see the light,
The sweet light of day!

I tried to roll faster
And tunnel sighted my eye,
I was getting so close
I was screaming "Goodbye!"

Then between the counter and door,
A distance I mistook,
Out went the sun,
And I was squished, underfoot.
Written by
Micheal Bevan
1.1k
   Sajini Israel and Helen
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