Sonnet: When Own, Disown?

A climber creeps and crawls upon the ground; Its props will not support but fallen down; It does not know the destination bound; It grows and lives on still, all on its own! It once had flowers that had fruited well; It now is trampled under feet of struts; And life has changed a lot and almost hell; It has to bear the anguish and the cuts! Its former service done is off accounts; Its props are climbers young, unkind and proud; They feel they grew on own on little mounts; They wear a mask and misty, hazy shroud! Some youth look down upon their parents both, And bleed their elders old, and sleep in sloth. Copyright by Dr John Celes 26-11-2016