Here I am half dressed with uncombed hair
As weary as a wolf without a lair
Now my thoughts are waylaid by my faults
Which human never feels these cruel assaults?
Why do I not think of all my joys?
Instead I recall cruelty nuns deployed
If I could have hated them at school
My anger would turn outwards ,be less cruel
Do we nurse such hatred for some gain?
Surely it ‘s not worth the searing pain
I wonder how to let it go for good
And quietly bear my burden, cross of wood
Retaliation, arrows that return
The sender feels the pain but will they learn?
How my heart speaks 