Pseuds corner: Iron Shackle poem

The scribbles are set
And The Time is wasted?
No
not copied and pasted
rather hastened and slim-waisted
falling like an evergreen curve
around the hips of a parabola
time may make us loners
but too much pride is for stoners
getting stoned to death
and stoned out of their heads
until ash comes out of their ears
and all they breathe is fears
not copied and pasted
rather gripped like life was chastised
tormented, trailed like an iron shackle
attached to the wrecking ball of days gone by.