Sestina Poem For Critique?

[Fug-azi]

For those who don't know the sestina is a strict ordered form of poetry, dating back to twelfth century French troubadours. It consists of six six-line (sestets) stanzas followed by a three-line envoy. Rather than use a rhyme scheme, the six ending words of the first stanza are repeated as the ending words of the other five stanzas in a set pattern. The envoy uses two of the ending words per line, again in a set pattern.

First stanza, ..1 ..2 ..3 ..4 ..5 ..6
Second stanza, ..6 ..1 ..5 .. 2 ..4 ..3
Third stanza, ..3 ..6 ..4 ..1 ..2 ..5
Fourth stanza, ..5 ..3 ..2 ..6 ..1 ..4
Fifth stanza, ..4 ..5 ..1 ..3 ..6 ..2
Sixth stanza, ..2 ..4 ..6 ..5 ..3 ..1

Concluding tercet:
middle of first line ..2, end of first line ..5
middle of second line ..4, end of second line..3
middle if third line ..6, end of third line ..1

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~Stand Up And Be Counted~

Can it be that construction creates holes
where building blocks are torn without pausing,
no thought to the scars left all stark and bare.
Perhaps we all relish that sense of control,
with not a tear for all the pain we are causing;
are we even aware?

how children grow wiser, become aware
of the sutures we stick to cover holes,
how we ignore their questions to what is the cause
then wonder why they’ve stuttered and paused,
lost all their wonder, have got no control;
all lonely and bare.

We could blame this society for leaving us bare,
no protection from evil, un-aware
that the more we want the less the control,
we can’t see out of this self dug hole
and then its too late to stop or to pause,
pondering the cause

of this apathy, what are the causes
of being shallow, unable to bare;
too quick a life with not enough pauses.
Even in knowledge we stay not aware
content to wallow deep in our holes,
our pseudo control,

when really it’s us being controlled
as we shout for our chosen causes,
accepting their ‘truth’ dribbling through holes,
when the lies lay on their faces so bare
and how I wish I could make them aware
how they are all paused.

Stop the faux building, lets take time to pause
and regain what we’ve lost, take control;
let bureaucrats know that we are aware
of all the pain that they have been causing
and lets start afresh with a sheet so bare,
plug up all those holes.

Time to come off pause and fight for this cause,
take back the controls, no longer be bare,
be self aware as we fill our holes.

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The added twist here is the rhyming.

[Aldaras Wolf]

I happened to enjoy it and I'm familiar with or learning rather, the form of the style, though haven't attempted one yet, but did find this profound.

What I most enjoyed perhaps is your use of concrete and steel references, as I am a child of the country, and too, your references to children, and what they may sadly be inheriting.