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.