My better self thinks it's me, all too willing to say
"That was unworthy of you!" when I've done this or that;
My worse self is humbler, but enjoys life more.
If I sneak out, leaving my decent impulses home
Working on drafts of its interminable admonitions,
The incarnation of my dark desires, my corrupted will,
Inquires after its brother's health, transparently concerned.