Quarry the mines of your mantle
Digging deep into your trough

Quote the things they spew to you
So hungers you can sate

Quarter yourself unwillingly here
Where heartaches and pain are abetted

Query what they hold to be true
And constant when mysticism abates

Quiz yourself on virtue and honor
To pick which eyes to peer through

Quash what pearls are growing in you
From the nacre of your sense

Quake the stagnant grounds around
You where all these things have sat

Quit the life they try to force on you
That is but their abettor

Quicken your unsure paces
To hasten the escape from this abattoir

Quail not in the face of struggle
But seek instead the paths which are tough

Quell emotions boiling in you
To lead you where you've not been sent

Quest through the hidden vales of life
As curiosity's virtuous sentry

Quiet the tempests of your mind
To find a truth both personal and thorough

Queue the goals of life and logic
In the order in which they are to be sated

Quaver the unfailing conscience
That has died in these old sentinels

Quiver all of your fiery arrows
And see yourself becoming that same satyr