How can you not know what you are...?
How can you deny your transgressions?
We stand at the edge of the abyss.
It's no longer a metaphor.
Yet you insist on pretending,
Hoping we'll all go back to sleep
And allow your grip to tighten
On our tender throats.
Did you not imagine
Some of us would remain to stand,
To block your attempts at hijacking Life
For your edacious purposes?
No wonder you hunt us like vermin,
Demonize our flesh, smear us with lies.
For we're the ones that've kept a remembrance
Of the horrors you inflict, generation after generation.
Echoes of your perfidy stay with us, a dark and putrid stench.
Surely, you knew we'd catch up to you,
In the end. No point trying to dissimulate, at this late hour.
Show yourself for the black-hearted coward that you are.
For once this aeon, dare face yourself, in the mirror,
Look what you've become.