Like hyenas they seem
Can't endure on their own
Hunt in packs
Lone wolves are their prey
The cultured among them
Would profuse some respect
For the kinds of men
They love to slay
Only happy are they
In the throes of one joy
Schadenfreude - that be its name
But the depressing thing
That I found with dismay
Is that the highest types, in this, are the same