A Talk With the Corpse
I talked to a somber corpse as distant as lone
Transparent, defiant, obstinate, drone
It wanders aimless, no future nor past
It's given to whimsical, selfish, trespass
It said: "I glide through and live in the moment
I feed on blind choice, I scoff at opponents
I care not for laws, I write my own rules
I'm lowered to a statistical, criminal tool
I ask not for progress, I seek not a plan
Unspeakable action's where I take my stand
I balk at responsible, conscientious living
I chalk up my devalues for devious misgivings
I trod on disorder, for my direct sculpture
And feast on destruction, as hungering vultures
A product of fallible, draught indiscretion
I'm given to lucre and pure insurrection
I set my example by questionable force
Unstoppable misdemeanors are my committed source
I'm prone to sowing the seeds of discord
It's as wicked thoughtlessness is all I can afford
Entrenched in excessive felonious schemes
I leave little doubt I'm fit to redeem"
I spoke to this corpse, I'm seeking the truth
What leads this life downward to actions uncount?
What sends it a message for deeds of disdain
On drawn to a mental, emotional strain?
What makes it a product of ones detriment
What sets it apart as societies' excrement
This corpse spoke, "Death speaks, I chose to align
The consequences turned out to be far from benign"
To put it: It's hopeless, I cannot rehabilitate
The end has been set, I just will disintegrate.
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