The mark of hate is the lack
of shared reference to mankind
when derision becomes the norm
in place of the civil tongue

ridicule is the mode
when a voice detests the world
despising what’s not understood
seeking safety behind disdain

erecting walls in response
to the strangers asking due
they’re discounted all the same
as the chattel below the feet

communication flows one way
none can hear when beasts plea
demanding balance in the scheme
denied with slurs are hurled their way

derision spun as calm discourse
or humor from the acid tongue
each rebukes the common ground
permission given to cold scorn

stripped of kinship from the whole
ensured by use of only words
designated for the worms
without the souls of mortal ilk.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180602.