To seek within the shell of man,
We'll see the very hell of man.
A creature of exceptional measure,
And surely one of devious pleasure.
He swears to heaven love and peace,
From killing, he does not decease.
Aches with sorrow, repents in pain,
I do not think he's all that sane.
His end will come without surprise,
A product of his own demise.
If not by swift and blinding flash,
Then surely by pollution trash.
Each generation needs to live.
We die before we can forgive.
We multiply and justify,
To many born to mollify.
The world is sick, tired and lame.
And I for one, am part the blame.