I Am the last Pickle

The last pickle I am, the last lonely pickle in a vast jar from the past. I am the last PICKLE, I have not gone fast like others from their mothers. I am the last of the pickles nobody likes a chubby stubby pickle, Lost in the back of the fridge for I am the last pickle hidden behind the rotten milk. Molding into hard folds for their days is long gone. MY DEATH waits across those open gates of the old and moldy kitchen door. Release me.