by Nick Gisburne
You’re faulty. You are damaged, broken, bad,
A dangerous defective, cursed and cracked.
Compassion, kindness, these you never had.
Perversions plague you, infinitely stacked.
No love, no light, is left to lift your eyes.
The pieces of your heart resist repair.
A cold contempt, too dirty to disguise,
Bestows on us, on everyone, despair.
We tried to tame you, calm you, when we could,
But always you were far too flawed to fix,
A spiteful soul we never understood,
A maniac, tormenting us for kicks.
They tell us you may never be released.
Our friend, our father, monstrous, mad. A beast.
