The Brute spews hateful words
–Which are only considered hateful to us.
To him these insults are like
Shimmering red jewels,
Blood red–his words mean death to me, to you, oh insanity …
For this Brute, this beast …
… This ten eyed troll …
Revels in cruelty
Of the animal kind,
And by that I mean humanity.
How would you like to be a purse?
He’ll reason, nodding to his cronies.
Oh irony of ironies!
Aren’t you the little victim?
The Brute will laugh, he just can’t help it,
And to be fair, as prey, we are his favourites.
You had it coming! And maybe a lampshade, a wallet,
Human leather shoes! They’ll fetch a fine price!
And with a hideous smile, says the words, Skin ‘em!
And now we’re dead.
It’s not so nice to be on the losing side,
But maybe the Brute’s right?
Maybe we DO deserve this.