Reply poem on behalf of POTATO

Timothy, Timothy I know I stink,

but what can I do?

I'm ugly and wrinlky,

but I can't help it.

I know my teaching is bad,

soft voices echoed at the back, 

you can't hear me but I don't care,

because I'm just one miserable potato.

I know you hate me, 

but I don't care, 

because I'm just a potato, 

feelingless yet meaningless.

I know I'm bitter, 

unlike my cousin tomato,

she's sour but sweet, 

I'm bitter but pain.

Somebody dug me out of the ground, 

He peeled by clothes, 

dipped me in hot oil, 

that's the Belgians.

He brought me around the world, 

potato chips pipping hot,

after years I became unfamous,

being oily and bad.

I'm just a potato, 

teaching potatoes,

eating potatoes,

munching tomatoes.

Mr. Potato married me, 

but he divorced me,

because I ripped his garden, 

and poured drain water on them.

I'm  now unfamous, 

being hated by people,

but what can I do?

I'm just a potato.

A bG production.

Writing A Poem A Day, Keeps the Potato Away.

*God, I feel really bad writing such poems, but I can't help it. Please forgive this terrible yet horrible me.