You were sitting in the grocery,
Alone among your fresher betters.
Your leaves wilted,
And your edges brown,
You knew the crisp qualities
You once had to offer
Were gone long hours ago.
But I was hungry, and touched
By the melting green of your lettuce,
And the wrinkles on your onions.
Also, you were half off.
But they say no good deed goes unpunished,
And oh, how you embodied
Those cautionary words.
While I, in my mercy
Ate you when no other would,
You planned sour mischief
With my fragile digestion,
And left me in embarrassment
Squatting over the toilet
Of poetic form.
Diary of an Aspiring Writer 