You

You
The man I would not spit on
To keep flames from torturing
And mangling your body

You
Who condescends all with talk of wisdom
That has come with your age
But has not seemed to affect your judgment

You
Who accepts not
That a cry for help
Can be real

You
Whose ignorant thoughts
May have cost the world a life
And changed your world

You
Who refused to check on your son
When I called to tell you
He had a gun to his head

You
Who would've let your son die
While I stayed up all night
Convincing him to live

You are scum.