How many times have I sought to bereave you of the vice which you have born against me with unrelenting perpetuity. Each time with more desperation; each time with more vim. But each to with equally and nullified avail. To which end I have come to the measure that rather than searching you out, it was I that needed searched from within. And in so doing, I discovered to my humblying dismay was not a cooperation, but rather a closure.

(This is aimed at nothing in particular I just felt poetic.)