Is That Really Him?

Out of his den at half past ten

Riding with ease and dash and sleaze 

Young rider insane, his driving inane

Maneuver and tease, hot knife through cheese

Walking down the lane an elder in pain

That easterly breeze, those long gone knees

Berating his cane, feeling all in vain

O' old prestige and those "sir, if you please"

The weather so pleasant and time to spare

earning free goodwill, why wouldn't he care

He carried and helped the old man in despair 

then rode on his way with some ruffled hair 

Lying on couch and taking some rest

He saw on his cellphone a "friend request"

In shape of the old man a serpent appeared

Spitting venom of hatred, all things smeared 

He wasn't alone, a full colony on show

Their laurels so high, yet morals so low

tongue split, and rotten head to toe 

The human within looked dead long ago.