Cryptopsy

Your thin lips, curl, into a smile,
Which seems so bitter.
Your eyes glitter, as the nectar flows.
Your foresight, must be, 20, 20.
For your timing, is pristine.
You seem to have, chosen, the right seat.
Consume, reap the benefits,
Of your, hopeless ignorance.
We have, nothing left to debate,
You are, a fucking parasite.
You seem to find, satisfaction,
Within, the affluence of all your naпve kin.
Did you really think, we wouldn't see straight through this.
Act which you, portray without a conscience.
Could you please, constrain yourself within this,
Shattered shell, where, you've hidden all, your integrity.