The Resilient French Fry

I'm just a french fry, feeling left behind. In the darkness of the bag,

no one seems to mind. Forgotten and alone, waiting for a sign.

Will someone rescue me, or am I up to decline? A crispy cry

for help, lost in the fryer's ark. I'm a lonely fry at the

bottom of the bag. Hoping for a savior, feeling like a

rag. Once golden, crispy. Now I start to sag.

Oh, won't somebody save me from this greasy drag? I used to

be on top, the star of the show. Now I'm just a memory,