Broken glass and lipstick stained butts,
The carpeting of youthful arrogance
Littered across the frozen and snow covered earth
Strewn upon the bleak tundra like a thousand effigies,
The guardians of the ‘treasured’ existence
That thrives within the natural man
Slowly choking life away.
And lungs struggle to catch even the faintest trace of stagnant air
Blue faced, frantic
With flayed arms
Clawing at the walls of conscience
In vain hope to be heard through the blinding haze.
And there, amongst those fettered to the vice of choice,
Stewing within the hopes of the next high
Is the freedom of bad choice.
For what more truly can tighten the shackle of slavery
Than the one who willfully discards
Until all that remains is nothing of the self,
One more piece of waste:
A tenant of the frozen mire
Crunched underfoot
And buried beneath the white