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The False Dilemma

Honor or love was the question that tore
my interior being, till I knew no more
for what reason I wondered and why I compared.
I fractured within, and unsure, I despaired.
They told me I needed an outlet, a vent,
a way to release my emotion so pent.
They gifted my feelings with pen and with book,
so I opened the volume and to it I took
that creation, the thing that inspires our thought:
The pen, with its ways of extracting what ought
to be hidden away from the sight of our peers.
I put it to page and expressed all my fears.
It was inkblots and papers that by which and through
I perceived my reflection, and seeing I knew
that fragility known is a strength few received.
I embraced this discovery new, and believed.
If my honor exists without love, at what cost
will I shield it from damage? My soul I have lost.
But love without honor a passion creates,
that consumes and destroys, and eventually, hates.
Remember, though you may dismiss what’s above,
that true love will honor, and honor will love.

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