Bottom Feeder

Seeping through sewers
A slick slimy ooze rises to the surface
By vomiting stolen words
Stirring and stewing
While proclaiming itself clean
But it is
What it is
A thing made of filth
Created in darkness and despair
Lonely
Isolated
Desperate and destructive
Poison may win
For a time;
Killing its chosen victims
With cunning trickery
But in time
It will be spewed out
Like vomit
To return where it belongs
Flushed away
In the bowels
Coating the dregs of
Humanity’s cesspool.