Blood stains the hands of the guilty a nauseous crimson.
From first contact,
To the last breath,
Remains no emotion

Beneath their fine skin
Turning a sickly gray
From the chaos within a human,
To their ability of empathy

We are no different from the animals
We also have a purpose
But one must not be afraid of theirs

For as long as we live,
We are controlled by someone
Unknown or known to us.
Their grasp on reality isn’t as strong as ours,
For that’s why we are above them