Just like a pineapple I can be sweet, tart, and sour
I can be cut up, deemed fit, or rot away
People will look, and I'll look back
Their gazes force their way through mine
Truly staring souls with soulless stares
All focused on my life and my quality
But who is truly staring here
Who is really judging
Is it them, or am I the one with the knotted mind?