Men without upper lips, 

What was the fascination? 

With smirks of evil ego plastered upon faces, 

Not handsome in any fashion.

Substituting greed for a lack of any balls, 

Full of themselves, but not manly, no inner power, 

And if anomie came to fall, 

They wouldn’t survive, not even for an hour. 

Vulgarity and perversity written in their pretense, 

Hiding their depraved secrets behind prayers and kids, 

Middling intellects and a lack of human sense, 

Something off about them all, the moral skids. 

Nothing real about these inbreds, 

They‘re all pretense and show, 

To cover up the depraved psyches in their heads,

Though they can’t, and all who look shall know. 

No souls shown in dead eyes,

Just a smugness radiating through. 

What was wrong with the soul that looked at them and thought, 

I could be with you. 

What was wrong with the heart that had been with their kind before, 

Knew what they were, knew what lay in wait, 

But decided to go back for more?