Just like clockwork I repeat the same sins over and over; the same mistakes, again and again. For a while I persist in them, until just like clockwork, that unease begins to clamour within, whispering ever so softly that the end is near, that the time to repent has come. I will persist for a while, adamant to go on, until finally that faint trace of goodness forces me to relinquish my unjust desires. Repentance may follow, eventually, once the embers of misdemeanour have finally burnt out. And for a while I may be good again. But soon I will regret turning away from all that which is of no benefit to me at all; soon I will regret turning my back on sin, wishing all over again to return to it, just like clockwork, to repeat the same mistakes over and over. To sin and repent. To reform and deform. To be good and then be bad. To good and evil equal bent, and both a devil and a saint.

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