Humans.
Wild creatures.
They murder in daylight
and call it policy.
They slit throats for taste
then thank their gods.
They mass-produce suffering,
then post gratitude.
They crush the kind,
raise the cruel,
mock the aware,
and mute the wise.
They spill oil,
then take photos of sunsets.
They breed animals
for death,
then teach their kids to be gentle.
They dump poison in rivers,
then cry when their kids get cancer.
They scream “freedom”
with one foot on a neck.
They fear silence,
so they fill the world with noise.
Meaningless, constant,
stupid noise.
They laugh at the broken.
Glorify the empty.
Follow liars.
Cancel truth.
They package pain.
They monetize death.
They pretend to care.
And they fucking know.
They say,
“It’s complicated.”
It’s not.
They are monsters
in designer skin,
telling bedtime stories
while the planet screams.
And the worst part?
They feel the heat.
They smell the rot.
They hear the sirens.
They know.
And still—
they keep going.
They fucking keep going.
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