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.