some people try
to be better
some wallow alone
in a haze of pain
some strive
to find purpose
seeking to beautify
a world of ugliness.

some are just
sacks of shit
staining whomever
they come into
contact with.

petty little people
with dead
little hearts
that inflict
petty little agonies
on those they
already sought
to tear apart.

false saviors
in the pelts
of their prey
rancid reminders
of momentary
spilling their own
brand of despicable
and calling it art.

it is in these
flickers of thought
we see the truth
an empty cage
of loathesome regret
trying to remain
yet already
long forgotten
just the faded scar
of a wasted year.

some seek beauty
or self betterment
to figure out
how to take their flaws
and spin them
into shining gold.

but not her
she is just
a dung beetle
with who she
rolls over
with the giant
ball of shit
that is her
emotional vacancy
casting petty barbs
because she will
never know
his love again.

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