There is no extent to how low one could get in the conquest to achieve what one desires.
It turns the righteous and truthful into liars.
Have they lost their self esteem?
Yes, I guess, they can bend lower than they seem.

I wonder what fuels their passion for things, t
hat they cut off their own wings.

Fall so low,
start mingling with the dark, lowly life forms below.
The pride in basking of in the glory of their achievements does not interest them,
so basking in another's seems to be the only rem.

Backstabbing, stealing and mutilating others,
glory they find at times to the extent of deceiving their own kind.
Clawing and gnawing, pouncing and fighting, all for what? What's so exciting?

Helplessly they battle each other in the wretched state they are,
but make no attempt to grow wings and fly far instead pull others to that low lying pit of boiling tar.

Passing devious looks,
waiting for the unaware to grab their hooks, stealing their laurels like crooks.
Disgust fills me with a mere thought, once companions now having sunk to that place of eternal rot.

No amount of urging could do them any good,
unless they remember the glory in which they once stood.
Until they regain their sense of pride, until on their own laurels they learn to ride.

They will lie in that pit of shame,
with the lowly life forms playing that wretched game.
As long as on others laurels they rest,
such creatures shall I detest.