High horse

Lack of equal spreading of opportunity +s**t.

My pockets lacking capability 

my positivity and weak knee, flaws to myself and health alike

 with the spite of the things that are out of hands, but not out of mind.

 I wallow like hippo through mud of awareness, 

the pill I bear hard to swallow, it twists and turns down throat, 

with it , manifests hope , and lack of it. 

"They" prod and poke at the specimen before them;

 that of similarity but different environment,

 and they find that they couldn't. care less.

 Opportunity is subjective like the thought, 

Southerners trekking through Vietnam to "find themselves"

 but the only thing they find is 

that they have bought their opportunity by living in Surrey, 

not fought for it like they think they have. 

Some crease face in disgrace when you place 

opportunity and wanderlust in the same pile , 

but I stay reviled at their superfluous persons 

havin no use apart from painting a wall beige. 

Anger isn't optimal- nor frustration , 

and I have food in belly and roof over head

- but my mouth taste of iron and lead at my post-material outrage, 

that which has dismayed millions and rattled their cage. 

This is the way the world works, and it's sad to say , but a saddle is always ready on the high horse,

and its there to stay.