This is a disaster;
My my, what a wreckage you make
Of everything and everyone you touch,
Leaving them gasping for closure,
Hoping someday the answers
Will fall from the sky, or
From your towering mouth
And slimy breath,
Then maybe the pieces you’ve tangled
Between us can be placed ever so precisely,
Floating from the air in your lungs,
Into something more concise.

Who are you
To leave this world so deflated and disillusioned?
Go ahead, learn nothing of your barbarism,
Soon you will collapse into obscurity
By your own feeble hands
And all that you alleged to stand for
Will bite you in the ***.