The Demons Rage

The weight of sin grows heavy with age, And at the aged the demons do rage. And why do they fix their grin upon the young, And not a sound raise against a forward tongue? But for those who know they circle above, And those who would touch the perfection of love, These fallen have nothing but ire, And seething disdain for their penitent desire. Hopeless and helpless they want them to be, And broken in heart, and crippled in knee. And seeing no way to continue to live, With nothing to offer and nothing to give, To go on and die and make place for the young, For they live for the day, a fools song on their tongue. And so at the aged the demons will rage, And despise all those who gain wisdom with age.