DISCLAIMER: NONE OF MY POEMS RHYME, OK? NONE.
Wherever I travel
I see fools, running to please their kings.
They know not what to speak of
and they know not what they say they know,
and they know not how to say it.
I am surrounded by fools,
approaching from all directions.
I correct the fools' claims,
but they see only another fool.
I see the fools about me,
and then I recoil in horror.
I see one more fool enter, and another;
he has a different king, and he as well,
but both are fools, like all the rest.
I see kings.
I see fools.
I see myself.
One more fool
enters my vision.
I am but a fool.
I know not what king I serve.
I am a lost fool,
searching for more.