Conscience

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Conscience

Pull back the cover

Cloaked in shame hidden curled

Clutched in fetal posture

Handmade quilt of sad her netherworld.

 

Vacancy sign lit always bright

For another, then some more, always room

The heart accursed to share its light

Heavy burdens’ thanks for peace? Their gloom.

 

Add another, always more there are

You hear them pulsing writhing still

Rhythmic rolling thunder louder

No escaping fate’s mouldering swill.

 

Impulse collides with self-control

Each reel off on a brand new tack

Forgetting our original sin still on parole

Guilt is that companion stabs you in the back.

 

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