Poetry

The Dark Con of Man

Look at you. Look at us.
We’re just existing.
Living. Breathing.
Sinning. Unremorsefully.
Being unapologetic.

If we were created,
then we’re God’s greatest failure.
If we evolved,
then we’re a failed science project.
Freaks of nature.

We all possess the vices known to man.
Some are bold enough to admit it.
Some disguise them as virtue.
There are no virtues,
only vice and disguised vice.

The self-righteous does what he does
just to accumulate heavenly treasures.
The philanthropist helps the poor
just to look good and win elections.
This is just disguised selfishness.

We kill everything we touch.
Plants, animals, earth, each other, ourselves.
With our hands and mouths and eyes,
even with our thoughts.
Murder is our second nature.

So dark the con of man.
The con artist is the truest form—
of a human being.
So damned the soul of man.
Salvation is a made up story.

If there’s a hell,
we’re all going there…

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