That’s what he is, but what am I?

Everything he says is a lie,

Everything he does is a crime,

Every thought he conceives is sinful,

Every gesture he makes is hateful.

I sure do hate that awful man,

I hope, I hope to see the back of him,

Don’t let the door hit you on the way out.

On second thought,

it should give you good whack.

That slimy sludge of humanity,

That toxic spill, with legs,

That rancid inside out

Of a lower intestine,

Where nothing good is left,

Only brown stuff.

Weak, fickle, boring.

Inexorably drawn ,

To the wild nectar of the trash.

Full of hate, repulsed by his peers,

Feels inferior, and rightly so.

Glad I’m not like him,

Not one tiny bit...