You sicken me! You’re so bland
And after that growth spurt you’ve been awfully canned
You’ve gone through a season. Yes, you’re maturing
Getting ripe, sure, but not more alluring
Hidden from the world so that you can grow?
Surface-level living? Yeah, you’re a pro
You’re tasteless, for sure! Just sit there and rot
Sooner or later you will go to pot
It’s time to discover vast life in store[s]!
You’re not unique, though. Of you, there’s scores
You’ll be taken by force and cut with a knife
Red liquid will flow from your sorry life
And at parties you sit on the table edge, gleaming
Waiting hours on end for man to give you your meaning
Guess what, you’re not raw! What you are is cold
And there’ll be no takers, except for the old
For a veggie, though, you’re not all that adverse
For libel, however, I will not reimburse
Beets, don’t take it personally; I was only ranting and raving
Wait! Right now I have a slight craving
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