It Poem by ArmourQuill Hunter

It’s not about how big it can get
Nor about what happens without it
Never was it about its quantity
Actually, it’s more like its quality

If you think you’ve got it, without passion
Chances are you’ll quit, void of it‘s ration
The X-factor’s not in the market
For all those who haven’t a target

Although, “it” is rather diverse from “if”
And it’s nothing like a design of a gif
It’s the core, the heart, of the valid issue
Like one’s target scale, without a tissue

Analytically, we want the sum total of it's parts
Pragmatically, let’s try and consider its heart
It is a colour, a taste, a mood, or a dying sense
Does it set the tone, the mood, or fragrantly rinse

Either you have it or your time’s spent to attain
Without this “it-factor” lives are ruined to shame
No one knows why some are born naturally with it
Others strive all their lives to find its perfect fit

All I can tell you is~, it doesn’t come in a bottle
Nor can you retain it by being selfishly quite idle
Sin~, the essence of selfishness, destroys it bitterly
Boudica~, of Iceni, my ancestor had it victoriously