Throwbacks of the World

So easy it is to gang up on the weak,
victimizing them at every turn, mocking their every word.

Snarling like wolves; no, like a pack of swine,
reeking with the stench of cowardice,
hiding behind each others' backs,
from there, stabbing others in the back...

Greed, lust and gluttony are not your only sins,
you have no respect for mankind,
crucifying your sanguine kin...

Ties of blood run loose, into the sewage filled gutters,
among bile and excrement,
polluting the clean rivers.

No sense of shame, none of respect whatsoever,
masquerading as bloody do-gooders,
stooping lower than slimy creatures.

Not an ounce of courage, nor an iota of sense
just plain, wicked laughter,
at those whose peace you're after.

Scavenging for attention, salving your lost honour,
though none remains, whatsoever.
Live in your distraught world,
in the abyss of infamy and ignorance,
And personally, you do not deserve such poetic dedications,
ye throwbacks of the world...