Echoes of Frost

I've made a point to travel on those roads not walked by most,

ignored the orders from above and abandoned my own post,

legs all torn and bloody from the forcing of paths new,

for not a single soul through lap dog service ever grew

I want to know the truth of things by means that are my own,

not some cage like construct that from which all sense has flown,

whose s**t stained perches sing the song of many foreign hands,

neutering those tree born birds with the sheer weight of demands

Days spent slinging stones in neighbourhoods made out of glass,

saw mine reduced to rubbled shards a long time in the past,

and the scars I recognise in mirrors from my early days,

those badges I once wore so proudly, always on display

A world perceived by senses, fragments of the whole revealed,

our blindness as we hit high speeds will see our fate is sealed

We see so very little yet we're hedging all our bets,

and all that will be left is tears, and come to late regrets