Which sin is this?

Not nearly brave enough 

to try and quell this baying 

too weak to even hate enough 

to get comfort from the slaying 

Throwing stones, not just, in pity 

There's some comfort in death

I want to choke this riding guilt

that surges with every breadth

Is it  they that kill humanity

faces contorted with savage lust 

or does it see my fear and die   

smothered in its own disgust