Inconsequencial Conscience

One of the more difficult things to shed, i fear. Oh, the misery of a disillusioned conscience. I dream as to speak without incalculable surprise, like a tell-all aunt, mouth opened for the money. I dream if only to unveil my dreams. I yearn if only just to shut and destroy your overfull ego. I linger like yr cockroach, where I hide in the jars just like i'm expected to be, right where you like me to be. But i'm less forthright in pest control, pet control, pen control. You careless scientists, killing all the rats, when it was always I who passed with your plague.