Not A Poem.

  In life there is no true, achievable, point where a thing is right or not. There are merely; at the end of the day. Levels of wrongs that add up until we shut our eyes. Though even in silent slumber. The human mind is the most beautifuly vile creature holding command over the shell of our forms. Even we are not capable of encompassing all our minds commit at any given times. But, as much as it wills us to hope for greatness; equally so it tempts us to our deepest depravites. Thus at the end of the day it isn't a matter if you've done enough good to out weigh the bad. It is the fact you've made it to the end of the day without succumbing to our own nature.