You. And you.

You.
And your vitriol of cynicism about how
All who are successful are but corrupt,
And all with money, evil
All who're passionate are shallow,
And all who disagree a disappointment.
All those dismissive remarks,
And the throaty, metallic clot of blood,
Always present to flavour the days
And make everything taste the same

And you.
And your immature, vapid snobbery, ticking
All the checkboxes of the Zeitgeist
And from it, conveniently discarding
All that is inconvenient or vulgar.
And through those proud, unwatched charades
All you do is disgrace yourself to those who see
And leave them with a sense of pity, for
All your dance is to get one more chance
And undo the callousness that has passed