The Human Race

A little joke at my expense,
Or two, or three, or five, or twelve.
But I don’t see them laughing now,
That they all writhe and burn in hell.

The final straw, they tripped me once,
And in my face they slammed a door.
And so I vowed to slaughter them,
Like Jack the Ripper slaughtered whores.

They pointed, stared with crooked eyes,
A psychopath, I was declared.
But as I promised, they are gone.
From my revenge not one was spared.

So many begged to stay alive,
“We’re innocent” they would protest.
But they were not, of this I’m sure,
Just persecutors, like the rest.

So they no longer bother me,
The world no longer they disgrace.
I live in perfect solitude,
For, alone, I am the human race.