Happiness/Ambition

My friend, I’ve taken issue, won’t you listen?
This lush and fertile land that saw my birth,
Has trod a path which leads only to dearth,
Blurred; the shapes of happiness, ambition
And perpetually covetous, the mission
To force more jewels into your crown despite the weight;
Such a sparkling artefact of quite poor taste,
I pine to live life by my own volition.
I’m fed up of being led between two fences,
Directly to the smell of burning hair,
Love’s just an epithet for select breeding,
And glossy magazines numb all the senses,
A bitter allegory fills the air;
Something altogether different I am needing.