He sits in his office, looking down at the world, grunting orders, hearing nothing
He sits in his office, ignoring the cries of the world, scarfing burgers, feeling nothing
He sits in his office, surfing the dials, understanding nothing
What is this, not a man, not animal, vegetable or mineral
Who is this, not a heart, a brain, just callous indifference
Pretending to be human, but no blood flows through those calcified veins,
No breath inflates those shrunken lungs,
No thought animates the sclerotic mind.
Who is this, what is this, why is this,
A heavenly mistake, a misfit of ungodliness,
Bombarding the world with harmful prattle,
Sitting in his office, clutching his teddy close to his massive chest,
Sitting in his office, striking out at all who live,
Sitting in his office, a mass of deadly corruption,
Waiting to be taken away to the dung heap of mistakes.
Forever forgotten, forever reviled, forever removed.