Here's a revised version of a foolish poem I wrote when I was fourteen.

Let us introspect, clay liars!
Remain we true to our Promethean fires?
We idle, we watch, we hate, we blame -
scoundrels, we love preaching virtues of shame.
Well, what's new, more rules for death?
Any tips to befriend remorse on our last breath?
Teetering between each moral extreme,
"Unsure of what is truly supreme?
Have heart devout, be pure in will,
and fear not your moral bill.
Believe in us, believe in all
Surrender yourself to --- thrall!"
Thus lies what heathen clerics divine,
But thy heart is only thine.
~ me