This Lunacy Is Their Bliss Poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar

Can not make a living,
Like those comparing statistics.
Can not thrive in limitations...
As they assume themselves supernaturalistic.
Every condition they have created,
A mess themselves they leave.
They believe themselves superior...
By creating illusions conceived!

Taking from others and using them,
To show how much better they are...
Has proven that this is an existence that is sick,
And methods used has deepened their own scars.
This is their reality...
A normalcy suspiciously accepted,
And quite bizarre!

They will take a monkey's butt,
And cover it in pants!
Make cartoons of talking animals,
And destroy human beings at a glance!
They could care less where they make a mess...
As long as someone else is to blame.
And then accuse those they abuse,
By victimizing them to shame!

This is the historical game they have played,
To keep themselves feeling they are better!
But they have forgotten how rotten they have gotten...
And this cancer they have spread has kept them crazed.
No mystery is this!
This lunacy is their bliss!