I yam what I yam.

I have one rut and I stay in it.

I plow and plant and gather the seeds,

And plow and plant them over again.

I eat. I sleep. I repeat

Sweet nothings in your ear.

I’m growing strangely tuberific,

Completely orange on the inside.

I don’t have to try and be sweet.

I find I truly am.

They say, “You are what you eat.”

Maybe you are what you war.

But as for me, 

I yam what I yam.

-jenn