Hypocritia

Grievances and dissent galore,
But one in a million is a pinch of salt;
Salts that do not taste for their sake,
Shall be thrown in revolt.
A zillion strong with no sense of taste,
All but blaming in haste;
With dead taste buds and senses of shame,
Dead they live, and die the same.
They look at you with scorn,
Their ignorance they  hide;
Oh, welcome to Hypocritia,
In emptiness they pride.