What kind of a man has no conscience?
So blind and rotten, his decay's immense.
In him we cannot find a trace of moral fiber,
He is callous, vile, a vicious predator.
He views what's wrong in his distorted reason,
Regards it as just acts of Self-preservation.
For Stealing to him is just a usual game,
He gets a poem by just changing an Author's name!
He gets what he thinks is his with no qualms,
He could steal even Proverbs and some Psalms.
How pathetic is he who lives in Pretense,
Wears masks that hide his true existence.
All rights reserved ~~~Cynthia Buhain-Baello~~~05.29.15
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem