Conscience

I am that consequence that coincidences with your negligence.

Your mediocre accomplishments propped up as pretentious monuments.

In gist, I exist as a direct result of everything you did.

Everything you hid.

The volume jump from low to high, forcing you to skip the mid.

I am the auctioneer to your bid.

Like the clamped lips of a whimpering kid, I am the silence that speaks volumes, while you pretend to be mute.

I am that undeniable truth that you choose to refute.

In the mirror, I am the image that you wish to see.

I may want to be you, but you need to be me.

I am the Conscience of your so called ‘Consciousness’, trying to fight back, in this unilateral battle between your civility and your conceededness.

I am the ‘News’ to your ‘Fake’, the ‘Control’ to your ‘Gun’, the ‘Mis’ to your ‘Take’, the ‘Tant’ to your ‘Rum’, the ‘Hominem’ to your ‘Ad’, the ‘Er’ to your ‘Loop’, the ‘L’ to your ‘Id’, and the ‘Law’ to your ‘Suit’.

I am the spoon with which you feed your lies that make others puke.

And as you watch, I am that twinkle of remorse suppressed deep within you.

I’m the ‘Will’ to your ‘Power’, ‘Entanglements’, and your ‘Fight’.

The bark to your bite.

When your ‘good intentions’ go predictably left, I’m your reminder of right.

I am your urge to stop and the voice that begs “what did you do?”

Every time you point your finger, I am there, in the three pointing back at you!

Yasser, thank you so much for letting me use this picture!

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