A dusty path,
But there are cleaner routes,
Yet, you chose to be soiled with earth,
Standing mocked before elites,
Your confidence muffled by a swathe of flies,
Your nose piling up unused water that dripped down your jaw.
You chose to be robbed of choice.
The mother of errors,
Muddling right in a wrongful way,
Pointing evil in an unstoppable direction,
It never meant harm,
But brings blood to the table,
How did it nestle all alone?
Waving to no-one in motion?