The cost of which is?

A boy walked inside, dark curtains, dim lights,
From the shadow, a picture, a man emerged in sight,
Dark clothes on the man, his legs, bandage,
Hands trembled, courtesy, not his age.
“Try it”, he offered, “It will cost you none”,
Took it, the boy, ’twas only free once, a mother lost her son.
We are often, in places such,
Our mind, accepts thoughts, we otherwise wouldn’t think of much,
In weakness, you see, the word “free”,
Sounds, unattached, as can be thee,
A hidden cost, in the fog will always be,
And as time passes, clearly, you will see.
Pay you must, for now you owe,
Owe a lot more, for what you did sow,
Worth it all, it looks not now,
But pay you must, you cannot out bow.
A free meal, is a myth,
Just like a free toy, or a popsicle stick.
Not all true costs are binding and sick,
But for what is, to decipher, know the trick.
The mind is but an ocean of thought,
With endless direction, unless you sought,
A pedestal of moral, where, if rains be storm,
You will endure and not bend your form.
With that thought, I leave you thee,
These lines are free, not really you see.
I make you think, agree or disagree.
I took your time, that is my fee.

