I heard taunting echoes and scurrilous snarls.
It was my conscience, and I listened as it spoke
in accusations, contemptible remarks aimed at me.
Shameful words delivered to break my fallen spirit.
In mocking voice of Shakespeare's Hamlet, I heard,
"Fatuous one, why does your writing hand quiver,
mimicking the trembling lips of a child in fear?
You dare to call yourself...
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