I can hear my pettiness echo in the chambers of Hell.

I stay stuck and paralyzed in the place where I fell.

I assert myself to be a better man,

but I really only have a better plan.

My character has not changed,

because it cannot change.

It may become weathered,

and could possibly erode.

The qualities and flaws will still show clear,

and I am never more than a sum of my parts.

Whatever it is that makes my character a single entity,

becomes fossilized as today turns to tomorrow.

What has made me brave turns to sorrow.

I had back to my cave with thing stolen and borrowed,

and my tail between my legs.

My pettiness is washed away with whiskey and hope.

The room becomes filled with revelry and smoke.

I can not help but feel this place is a chamber of Hell.

I remained stuck and paralyzed in the place that I fell.