Though slapped, I am undaunted.
Then I rub my face, get a glass of water and drinking it, make a vow.
Though dismayed, I am undaunted.
I relocate, re-educate and reconvene myself at a later date, writing the daunt on 1000-1 pieces of paper in my mind and burn them in the hell of my stomach.
Que sera, sera.
I am daunted, then undaunted in time that provides the existancd of the sledge hammer of discipline. I hammer out my thoughts, destroying their form.
Daunt me not.
Daunt A’s inferno.