Conscience collects. She pools in your heart. Ignore her too much, and she’ll tear you apart.

Conscience observes. Watches your choices. Forget she is there, and you’ll hear all her voices.

Conscience cares. Even when you don’t. She’ll tug at your hair, she’ll squeeze at your throat.

Conscience collides. With your soul and your mind. She eats at your fringes, she drinks of your shine.

Conscience corrects. Your wrongs and your lies. She fixes your honor, patches your wise.

Of Jiminy cricket, we can learn a lot. He tried to save Pinocchio from Evil’s twisted plot.

But Jiminy was discarded. A terrible fail. And Pinocchio was swallowed whole by a whale.