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.