Contemptible

Fields of overrun earth

Limbs that dance devoid of trunk

Women sunk in mourning

Your gift to our species

We have mourned so many deaths caused by your greed for gold

Yet still nothing compares to your holy abstinence

Liberation of all men is venom to your teaching

I am no pity slave that you could spit on

Scorn consumes me while tasting your false truths

Cripple is what I see when I look at you

Our tears – the bitter sea

Trying to break the chains

The last link of our leash

Will become your personal thorn