My guilt is a sad song that is catchier than Spanish influenza
I press it down and up, like levers on a strange machine
But the fluctuations are constant,
Always teeming high and sweeping low,
But never
Ever
Gone.

I guess it is conscience,
My moral discontent,
Which breeds this inner animosity,
But this is only data
And would be best used to implement a constant rotary of ways to help others
Rather than damning myself.