Life of a beetroot

I wanted to write a poem from the point of view of a beetroot. Daft, I know but there you have it. It isn't in iambic anything but there is meant to be a sort of structure so I hope it makes sense. I'd love any comments anyone might be able to give :-)

Beetroot

Where we grew up in that ragged place
Where our parents wild seeds were sown
It was always dark there underground
underground

Alone

We'd shoot our goosefoot proudly
Toward a sun that never shone
It was always dark there underground
underground

Alone

We lived our lives in furrows
With neighbours who'd never be known
It was never light there underground
underground

Alone

By force one day we all rose up
An army uprooted from its home
In death we finally saw the light
Above ground

Our lives over, we will smear
Splattered satanical red stains
On dinner swords, where you cut us up
Our deed
Done