The More I Grow Older

The more I grow older
the more I grow colder,
the less that my shoulder
can bare the sun's smolder.

Ripped fright from the chest,
the hold you in arrest.
A substance beneath the breast,
they claim is a pest-
It's a test
will you rest,
lose your soul,
your crest,
designer zest,
plaid vest
wrested from a fashion fest,
quite the quest,
getting dressed
oh so messed
without a vest.

Everything
in detest,
birds guffaw
at home; a nest.

Comments snide,
they really hide
individual insecurities,
leaving lines wide
points beside
ambiguous arbitration,
they're aspirations,
demonstrations,
dangerous apparition.

Demons in disguise
ostracize,
and no doubt fertilize
what we are born
to believe is the prize,
then we grow to adorn
ignorance and demise.