cold-eyed (Remove filter)
The Conscience You Never Had
That inner limb was lacking
A sense of right and wrong
Like a pane without glass
A melody without a song
You possessed virtues of sorts,
Were, not by any means, all bad,
Yet I remember you only for
The conscience you never had
Fissures materialised where
The inner self was displayed
Skeletons in your cupboard
Facade aside, were betrayed
Good times...
Saturday 10th October 2020 10:59 am
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