The Tater's Blood

How can one be so cruel

To dispose of this possible fuel

With such careless discretion

After a short eating session?

Just have a little empathy

For the French fry without sympathy

Grown, greased, and oiled

And finally by flies, spoiled

Think before you toss your next potato

Or at you I'll throw a ripe tomato

Feel and peel for the forgotten spud

And wipe your soul of the tater's blood

Reviews

[BiroPen]

great title