And scarlet cheeks now decorate my face

Are manners failures and not evil worse

So cast a person out from their right place?

To disappear from here is all I wish

To hide myself beneath a beggar’s cloak.

To eat soup from a convent’s dish.

As in my own familial haunts they joke.

Guilt can be expiated and redeemed

But shame destroys the deepest source of self.

What helpful measures may now intervene,

Cover my shied face, restore with health?

Is it only I who see my plight?
Imagined laughter hides me from daylight.