The greenest grass lays before me,
Nurturing the insects which rest
Upon their motherly blades and leaves,
Providing what's needed, no less.
Alas, there's a hole I must burrow;
I seek to preserve a treasure there,
But such selfish acts would bring much sorrow,
And nature would glower at doings unfair.
My longing grows stronger,
My yearn starts to burn,
But virtue desire can't conquer,
And my morals and I remain firm.
The darkness of my conscience finds me
And suggests I get to work unearthing.
It tells me there is much greenery
But only one wish, and it's hurting.
My wants eventually prevail,
And I start to form my craved hollow.
My ethics, however, fail,
And nature is met with great sorrow.
Finally, after all the damage has went
My work is thoroughly completed.
I've created a decent little vent,
Yet I want my expectations to be exceeded!
So the hole that was once adequate
I continue to deepen
And even when my conscience says, "Quit!"
I'm too lost in my vile ambition.
I've transformed my hole into a deepened pit!
An abyss from which I cannot escape!
My conscience whispers, "I told you to quit."
And starts to wither and fade.
With the green turned to brown
And the brown turned to black,
From me, all above frown
At a small wasteland and what it lacks
A long while subsequently,
My mind and body are fatigued,
And as my end approaches quickly,
I lie in rue, in woe, sorrowing over my deed.
