Ignorant Scum. Poem by Derrick Andrews

Ignorant Scum.



Sharing coins of filth from pots of greed,
Then smoking blunts and rolling weed,
This isn't what our planet needs,
This inner will to do bad deeds,
I just don't understand why you do what you do,
Why you find it necessary to kill and steal, you
Just don't comprehend that you're doing wrong,
So cocky and proud, thinking that you're strong,
But the weakness inside of you causes your crimes,
There were points when you cried, and also some times
Where you sat down and thought about things that you've done,
And either categorized them as necessary, or maybe as fun,
But I don't understand why you label them so,
Does it make you feel better about causing us woe?
Attacking the helpless and physically weak,
Mocking the shy ones, the smart and the meek,
Simply outlining the jealousy grown on your cheek.
Obvious to everyone, by the way that you speak
As if everyone around you is feeble and poor,
And that cleansing their filth is the only true cure,
But who gave you the right to judge who is better?
To you, I suppose justice is a clutter of letter.
And if you're reading this heated, and angry as well,
Perhaps that means you have a story to tell,
Of the scum of this earth that commit cruel deeds,
Ignoring others' desires and fulfilling their needs,
But if you're reading along defiant, defending your cause,
I'd ask you to halt here, take a mental pause.
And dissect that small membrane that's shielding your feelings,
You know, those things you tossed out like old crusted peelings?
And tell me, what's the barrier that you hide behind?
Are you, mentally distressed, or stuck in a bind?
Does your father mistreat you?
Abuse you or beat you?
Hiding the answer does nothing but reveal the true, weak you,
Crouching behind the pile of wrong doing,
And crying inside, while you're steady pursuing,
Your misguided morals, and undeserved pride,
Is crushing that entity, residing inside
Your putrid, foul mind, remains shrouded in gloom,
Your inner flower has wilted, and will never bloom,
Even if that is so, for the rest of your days,
At least attempt to repent, I mean there's plenty of ways,
You could try to play it off, like some kind of crude phase,
Or blame society, and say it was the new craze.
I don't care how you do it, just make it sincere,
Cause' to me it means nothing, but what will God hear?
Will he hear true regret, in the sound of your soul?
Or will he hear that you're acting, just playing the role?
And if it's true that you're faking, which is easy to tell,
Then you've but one destination to reach, which is hell.

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