By Mark Cowan

How must it feel to be an onion?
I can't see the a-peel
As the chef is standing
Knife at the ready
Just how must an onion feel?

If I was an onion I'd have the urge
To scream and shout out 'STOP!'
Before the knife came crashing down
As I was ready for the chop.

Yet here's the biggest irony;
As I'm cubed, then sent to fry
My life is chopped to pieces
But the chopper is the one to cry.

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