Katie Hopkins’ Feast
KATIE HOPKINS’ FEAST
My children, she whines,
Would never play with
A Shiraz or a Chardonnay;
And Tyler’s a name to deride.
I still can’t decide
Whether she is a professional hater
Who will eventually meet her maker,
Or a septic epileptic,
A destroyer or a creator.
Today she is increment living off excrement
Debasing the lives of refugees
Who risk the corpse-strewn seas
To escape the terror that clips their heels.
Does she truly not understand how that feels?
Fat children should be told
And there’s a good case for killing the old.
Sympathy and empathy will have to wait,
Katie Hopkins is feasting off your hate.