Sunday, October 16, 2011

Poem: I Would Hate to be a Plate

You lift me up

Away from my family

Then you slam greasy food into my face

You sit down and scratch me up with utensils


Then you trap me in a silver pit

And slosh soapy water on me

While you scratch my face even more

You take a soggy rag and wipe me all over


My face hurts and my back aches

When you take me back home

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