Perhaps, the best part of my eccentric day
Is the spoiled produce thrown my way
It certainly beats the recurring taste
Of mouthfuls of the local animal's waste

Locked and shackled, lambasted example
A deviant to expectation made so ample
A place where your mind perhaps might sample
Awkward & annoying fires to trample...

Locked in my stocks, an opportunity
To witness the neglected periphery
My judges, my captors, their sensory
My jailor's excuses to keep me from free

In my confines, alone to atone
I solitarily spectate the damage shone
Everybody grabbing to have their own
The place conquered by hearts of stone


And I weep. I am the Fool.