It
taunts and festers within,
The
disease,
Like
a shrill voice echoing in the fragile membranes
It
is the Siren’s cry on the ocean of the brains
An
ethereal throb sounding something like
Charles
Dumont’s “Non, je ne regrette rien"*
Asking
if it is all just a dream
(After
all “a dream is a wish your heart makes”)
For
Society would have us believe
The
malefactor of morality is harmless
That
there are a million other ways
To
disappoint
And
so, we give in
Readily
accepting
The
sweetest, most desirable pain
That
is the Sacrifice of our conscience
*No, I have no regret
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