We tout our generosity
Ignoring animosity
For what does mere calamity
Know about magnanimity?
We think that anonymity's
More horrible than infamy
'Tis better dealt in treachery
Than fading to ignominy
Blinded by our impotence
We mistake it for magnificence
And amble with due diligence
Toward our own impermanence
Sightless for thinking we can see.
Undaunted by our arrogance
Unhaunted by the whims of chance
A game's  a name for a lover's dance
Addicted fools are we.
And should we ever realize
That our very soul is atrophied
We only pause to wonder why
We did not exorcise (it sooner)
For what is conscience but a disease?
So we sit among the petrified
Entombed by truths we told as lies
Alone but for unbroken pride
Unaware we're on our knees.