Contempt

Contempt,

A Word,

Nonetheless, 

But feelings,

Stir under its surface. 

For it is I, 

Who came to wonder, 

whether this was to say,

keep your acts enclosed, 

or keep your eyes alert. 

The vapid seething minds, 

overgrown with worthlessness,

I began to ponder, 

the meaning of this existence,

Was it greed or humility.

It has brought thought to even the most intelligent,

It has brought sorrow to those of more definition, 

It was brought me the tears of meaningless sought,

It has brought the most of hope, 

It has shown me the the creation of contempt.  

Author's Note

I think I like this one, but it is probably the most vocabulary I've used in a poem
Tell me what you think,
And what you don't think.
Comment, Rate, Or Whatever.