A Dead Silence - Vultures

Caste down the carcass for all to feed, A tale of lustful pride, Envision a world without greed. The vultures are decending upon this pale corpse, Forever deprecating, The waste is all but sparse. Crooked claws and bent necks, They will always search for something, Gnawing on innocence, They will leave us suffocating. Witness deliverance. Constantly clawing through the dull refuse of a dying age, Eyes fixated on plastic suckling at the meaningless facade. Vultures, Just a taste of this era's sin, Scratching, Biting and unravelling. The primal nature and the discontent, Its observation there's no room to lament. A Vulture is a bottom feeder at best, It is a form that I rather detest. These vultures feed on gullible and meek, Tearing skin from body of the wretched and weak. It's sickening to see, The weak do nothing to uplift themselves, Succumbing to life without rationale. Constantly clawing through the dull refuse of a dying age, Eyes fixated on plastic suckling at the meaningless facade. The Vultures'