To pore over the menial, the seemingly fruitless
Holds keys to the meaningful
It is even in the presence of projected hatred
That the indomitable sense of worth
Shall take thee over
But as the tides hopelessly follow the beauty of the moon,
So does the prick of guilt follow the habit of the licentious
And the ease of actions,
Those too reprehensible to uphold
Enfold the duty of dishonor