Deep in the cupboard,
hiding in the dark,
there silently,
but still,
27 eyes staring,
waiting...waiting,
skin,
damp,
cold,
arms extending,
creeping outwards,
but only slight movement,
as it leans against the wall,
hiding...hiding,
waiting for the time,
to go out,
creeping...creeping,
opening the door,
awaiting its enemy,
hiding from being,
chopped,
boiled,
skinned,
poor...poor,
POTATOE!!!
This poem is made by my friend Jessica Stone.