Some part of me
Is inclined to believe
That we all naturally harbor evil
If this is a universally acknowledged fact
Than all wise people
Would halt their quest
In the pursuit of goodness
The iron fist vehemently clutches
To its endless thirst for power
While cunning foxes reap the seeds
Of others efforts before they flower
When wayward branches are taught to grow straight
They dilate further astray
And if God is reduced to just right and wrong
We become less willing to pray
A blind prophet stands at the roads
That dictate virtue and vice
With fear he tightens the rope of consciouness
That forces Man to think twice
So still our animal nature is untethered
And cannot remain concealed
Is man savage when he is out of control
And cannot contain how he feels?
Spilled Ink 