You Disgust Me

You Disgust Me

You come with charm, all polished grace,

A mask too tight for your smirking face.

Your words, like oil, slip past the truth,

And sour the air of every booth.

You bask in praise you barely earn,

And scoff at bridges as they burn.

A hollow king in a borrowed crown,

Spitting up lies while looking down.

There’s rot beneath that tidy suit,

A grinning mouth, a heart gone mute.

You sicken thought, you soil the room,

A bloomless weed, dressed up for doom.

You prey on kindness, sniff for cracks,

Then twist the knife behind our backs.

Your laughter drips with something foul,

A jackal’s cheer, a butcher’s howl.

Your presence clings, it coats the skin,

A stench that stirs the filth within.

No soap can scour, no wind can blow,

The bile you bring, the shame you sow.

And yet you strut as if adored,

Blind to the looks you’ve long ignored.

But we remember, and we see,

You don’t disgust just me.