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I often speculate the worth of advice
A conversation's progenitor, it's seasoning its spice I accede that words often do wonders For the weak mind which easily buckles and surrenders To the charms of a mischievous sprite, nothing more Which wants the flight of appreciation and gladly soar Above the sadness of the one in pain Egotistic satisfaction is advice's aim and gain Motivated by nothing but a simple desire To play with the feelings of a hopeless admirer Who longs for words of hope, imparting confidence Assurances of success and imminent affluence Hopeless! To expect such honest blessings From a tormenter with no real considerations For advice is a vice grown out of superiority To be falsely alluring to the mind mired in depravity Away! You fiend, you deceitful foe Displaying optimism but dire at the core
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