Peter picked a pickled pepper
Then he picked some fruit,
Polly watched and wasn’t pleased
She thought him to be rather rude,
Peter said what grows is free
For anyone passing by to pick,
But Polly was a corporate shill
Who said I own all of this you prick,
And life is not the way it was before
Now there’s a cost to everything,
And at this point she rang the cops
And now Peter’s rotting in a prison cell,
And nobody is outraged or doing anything.
fauxcroft 
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