Wimps

What wimps they are:

This gutless breed;

Typing out slander for all to read. 

Allow a comment or two from their mate..

Then snuff out all debate. 

Free speak:

Pardon me;

I'd like to pull out all the weeds. 

But that would be costly, just let them grow. 

When the reaper comes he will know. 

Can I pick them apart strand by strand?

I can see a cunning hand.

Most are just foolish 

They don't know 

Just agreeing with what's on show. 

Not understanding the dread or the fear...

All cursed with itchy ears..

The road is wide

For those are led

By the prophets of the dead. 

Laying their cockless eggs

So the vipers can be fed.

Nor engaging with the truth 

Feeding on rotten fruit. 

What are they afraid of?

Looney tunes?

They can hide.

There are those who stay and play

To them I wish a very nice day.