Picking crumbs from the beards of others, futile organisms with no spine.

Human lice with no spine slips into a neural wreck of humanity's rot.

Trust ripping away, dying.

Your breed is weak, the taste of strength bitter to your palate of doubt.

A remnant of what was, once left, a relic you pissed it away.

Your breed is weak, a thing so weak.

Mutual downslide into mediocrity,

you knew better but you pissed it all away.

Weak.