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The Beast MAG
Morals are blurry things. What allows one person to have free reign of his conscience while the other must submit to the constant grappling of his mind? Why does one person jump downward without a fleeting glance while the other cringes three feet from the edge?
I truly believe that even the most carefree of spirits suffers from the inner torment of his conscience. Perhaps some can block out the incessantly judgmental voice, but it's always there, lurking behind the corner, camouflaged within the shadows of our mind. With one puff of a cigarette, with one hesitant sip from a cold draft, it bursts free from its cage snarling and snapping, a constant reminder of broken rules and shattered futures.
The beast is untamable. You may think you have it forced into submission, but beware. No lock can hold it back, and just when you are thinking of venturing toward the edge, it escapes. Occasionally, it is too late. It may catch you in the midst of your reckless jump, but it will catch you and remind you to know better next time. ?
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