Still In A Processing Called Progress Poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar

I am not the one,
To empathize with those...
Who have sat on cushioned booties,
That have begun to bottom out.

I can not consider feeling remorse,
For those who have spent their lives
In complaint and in comparison of others.
Those who wake up in the morning,
With only one thing on their minds...
How to best manipulate someone,
From something they wished they had.
And do their best to get!
And stealing it without one sign of regret!

And how can someone have no remorse,
For denying another human the right to live...
Without plagiarizing their inventions or lifting their resources.
And then return to make claims for the land!
With all of their symbolic religious splendor.
Pepared and ready to teach the way of the demon.
And to see to it,
Just what sins are understood...
To commit!
And ultimately come to them to beg forgiveness!
What mindset is that...
Which spreads this kind of cancer?

That answer will not be forthcoming.
Since these misdeeds,
Are still in a processing called progress!