In whimsy's grasp, a sight bizarrely spun,
A faculty-less head, a doughnut chain,
Six rings adorn, in orbit, not in vain,
A mouth agape, with fingers, three, begun.
Above the left lip, a thumb finds sun,
A pudgy form, a spectacle quite plain,
Yet in its chaos, an eccentric reign,
With screams unleashed, the scene's madness won.
One finger, pinning down, asserts control,
A solitary nail, a tether's end,
Binding the chaos, a paradox whole.
Thus, in this scene, absurdity extends,
A sonnet spun from whimsy's playful scroll,
Where doughnuts dance, and madness never ends.
