What say you, to a pour attempt at poetry???

[Sadie the Goat]

What do you do
when your hands
have been shackled;
and pockets sewn tightly shut?

When your feet only fail
disrupting their path,
and your fingers idly
worry their worth?

Sipping bitter wine
trying to find time
to clean up this
fine aftermath?

Does one look in mirrors,
and shiver with eyes
filled with arrows
of spiritless mirth?

Do you think less of self;
put thoughts on the shelf
to feel all alone on this fence,

Tonight I died
because I cried
puddles of
indifference.
well, i meant to mispell it...
and I did just write it
thanks