I often speculate the worth of advice

A conversation's progenitor, it's seasoning its spice

I accede that words often do wonders

For the weak mind which easily buckles and surrenders

To the charms of a mischievous sprite, nothing more

Which wants the flight of appreciation and gladly soar

Above the sadness of the one in pain

Egotistic satisfaction is advice's aim and gain

Motivated by nothing but a simple desire

To play with the feelings of a hopeless admirer

Who longs for words of hope, imparting confidence

Assurances of success and imminent affluence

Hopeless! To expect such honest blessings

From a tormenter with no real considerations

For advice is a vice grown out of superiority

To be falsely alluring to the mind mired in depravity

Away! You fiend, you deceitful foe

Displaying optimism but dire at the core