Brown as the dirt it grows in, Rough skin tells of where it’s been. Warts and scars tell many stories, Battling bugs and birds receives much glory. Up from the ground it goes, Taken from its soil sanctuary to be exposed. Its children cry out from the roots below, Afraid to be alone in the coming snow. Thick coats of armor are peeled away, Leaving fleshy skin in its place. Boiled and mashed and sliced and fried, All such gory ways to die. But the Potatoes live on, Surviving the struggles they are upon. They hope for a better future, Plotting revenge on their abuser.