Once, I was a piece of seasoning on your chicken tender,
But when you bit into it,
I stuck to the corner of your lip.
The oils on your exteriors blended and allowed me to stay there
But you brushed me off like so many others.

Falling to the ground, you didn’t even offer me a glance,
A goodbye,
Or even the smallest amount of attention as I landed.
Forsaken, this barren floor populated with other crumbs
Will be my final resting place.

Alas, your dog has come to lick me off the ground.
Due to the preservatives I am loaded with,
I shall live in his gastrointestinal tract for the rest of our lives.
His lower intestine will be my final tomb.