mo·ral·i·ty

/məˈralədē/

noun 

1. Look at us, one heaping hypocritical sickbag.  We slick back, seeping our antiquated beliefs to others who neither wanted or asked; they deny it, unrequested from our ignorance again and again.  Fleeting, we can never feel bested in one huge crawl and slog to be the top gun.  We aren’t looking at ourselves like a raccoon splayed on the road, our own minds forming their own yearly Superbowls, mental commercialism; the schism smiling sideways, we always enjoy it and the channels keep flipping.  
 

2. You wish you could know how wrong we always are.  The invisible bar keeps on perpetually lowering; but do you see it?  Do we see it?  Our perception is a shield brokering only towards our bank; the Titanic sank yet we refuse to yield.  We bleed profusely, and the tea and china imports go only through one dock.  Only through one mind.  Which is why I tell you something:  
 

3. The stance of always being moral is a myth.  We all bleed for nothing.