What is worth, 
but a social construct?

Created by created, 
For created;
None of whom insightful 
Of what true cost was due. 

Flawless design scrutinized
By meritless and merciless alike.

Clay endeavoring pottery;
Offendors undertaking 
The doling of judgment; 
Offended offering offense;
Blind leading the blind.

Labels delivering blows unseen;
Value found finite
In the hands of the self righteous.

Carvings in earth and society
To unite equivalents,
To estrange differentials.

Beautiful boxes holding
Hostages of every origin;
Not one with keen awareness,
The key held in their own hands.

Able to unlock the precepts given at birth,
Yet refraining for lack of comfort.

Untraveled paths requiring
Both accountability and effort;
Unbecoming for the simple-minded,
Much too tedious for followers of followers.

Lest their mind be free;
Lest their worth be defined 
By One found Worthy 
Without trial or jury. 

Nevertheless,
Worth is but a social construct.

We, merely wedded 
To the ideology of old.
Kept bound
Until death do we part,
Or grace we impart.