I feel as if careful conclusion is an impossibility but frankly I am glad for its formation as an idea. Men presumptuous towards the thought that there is qualification for contempt, a fluttering breeze of fear drives them to the precipice of divided delusion. Too many view the utterly damned scripts held above as if it is luscious cosmic poetry. It is not for it simply exists to condemn the brutality that is ensured by the upper monologue of supposed truth. Of being is not enough for theses sharks and weasels, they need the fist of remarkable anguish to protect their petite, petty, and prolific desires. Desires of greater ambition that they will never autonomously know.