Beasts of burden

Though miles have been accumulated
on my journey to demise
I’m granted no advantage
on subsequent travels.

It’s an advertising gimmick
made to catch the unaware
and force upon the trusting
the burden of cynicism.

Weighted so we walk the trail
for surely in the backpack
there must be memories
of that once-upon-a-time.

But busy, busy, I can’t look
for sustenance not made whole
in this world that doesn’t honour
a traveller’s many miles.

And there’s no flexibility
or willingness to bend
the unwritten rules
that govern everyone.

So this is life, a tyrannical dictator,
that like an evil wizard
slowly, slowly, turns the young
into beasts of burden!