The Silver Spoon

Underneath pretentious facades
Of transparent glass walls
Cracked from vices,
The silver spoon glares
With eyes of ignorance.

Unabashed by scalding scorn
He weaves a web of alabaster
That will one day ensnare his spirit
And mummify his remains.

The engineer snickers in giddiness
At the conflicts wrought by his hands,
Clearly satisfied by his works
And the accompanying by-products
Of frustration and depression.

His thorny words stab the mind
From the depths of his cactus heart.
Fresh from the production lines
Of wanton immaturity and murky waters,
He revs up the engines
And fabricates an endless supply
Of silver-spooned fools,
Doomed to die alone.