• There in the corner, perched upon mahogany, lays the fool, manufactured for our pleasure
    We laugh and cry and absorb from its actions.
    Must it do everything to gain our trust? Must it be so appealing to everyone watching?
    Our eyes pealed, the fool's spell, a true genius among its fool's garb.
    Owned by many still shining it's spell on us, too hypnotized to understand.
    And from here on, our eyes were simply burnt shut, what were we now?
    No not humans, not anymore, but just something taking up mass, still breathing, but barely.
    Manufactured a fool's fool, to put it best, watching and unknowing.