Ripped Apart Poem by Ima Ryma

We did meet in a factory.
I was happy, I won't pretend.
The hunk took a clinging to me,
And I protected my new friend.
Together on a trip we went.
My hunk was fragile, so I tried
To be careful and not get bent
Out of shape by bothers outside.
We ended up on a store shelf,
And soon some hand did pick us up.
And then fingers ripped in myself.
Sadly, I was left hunkless, yup.

That hand grabbed chocolate today.
I, the wrapper, got tossed away.