you are what others think and thought.
They could be lavished with the freshest water
and still dislike the abundant taste,
make you do the same.

and if they lived in a
never ending snowing biom,
freezing their atrophying minds into the
cryoconserved likeness of eternity,
declaring this fool's action
a foolproof veritable gulp
of their besotted wisdom.
Would you do the same?

Even if you disdained the snow?
Who made you disdain the snow?
Would you have been on a fool's errand,
if you finally arrived there
or would you have been
on a palmy journey of a righteous congruence?

Who are you, the one of the others?
Are you one, or the others?

So many are
lynched on a warp
weaved by anyone except themselves
sinking into oblivion
might as well die up to it.