MR POTATO

 The Lament of Mr. Potato 🥔

I’m Mr. Potato, with feelings quite deep,
My roots run in sorrow, not soil so steep.
My kin were once tubers, so plump and so round,
Now they’re salted and crisped — nowhere to be found.

They called themselves kind, those humans who chew,
Saying, “No meat for me — I’m vegetarian too!”
But mercy, it seems, stops short of my skin,
For they peel, slice, and fry every one of my kin.

Uncles in packets, cousins in fries,
Auntie in mash form — oh how she cries!
My brother was roasted, my sister puréed,
My family reunion was served on a tray.

So next time you munch on a chip in delight,
Remember our faces, our earthy plight.
For though we are spuds, with humble appeal,
We too have hearts — just not ones you can peel.