The target of our scorn the point of all our loathing they all live down our nose and when they only suck in breath hatred only grows.
There are always those who hate and find an object of disgrace to appease their twisted view, be it weight, colour, or height, it's simply their sight that pushes spite to cruel. For the outcast from society life can be rich or poor for to send their despisers into a flurry they needn't say a word.
For there are novels written in the smile of the hatred that in smugness can be read. For those that live already conquered those that wish them dead.