There is no rule; the boundaries blur beneath us, therefore the bewilderment. For what so unmistakeably reveals itself to the common senses of others, is for us under defiance. Nothing is perpetual, stable, but the righteous. We carefully harness the fine art of subtle speech. A word less meanwhile meaning more, for the extravagance of words is a matter of pain. In the meantime, we acknowledge the characteristic that sets vengeance apart from justice, and that resides in our hearts: malignity. Such is of no consequence, no purpose, for we cannot value the why, and so it shall never have a mirror in us.

In us, the broken.