Sometimes it hurts
when I don’t like
and cannot hold
that I don’t like
the way that I’ve been treated.
Hurters don pants,
+++++but, others of them, skirts–

some bludgeon blunt–
+++++some prick with spikes–
some, passive hostile humbleness
+++++and others egotistical, conceited. . .

first I must breathe,
+++++when lashing back won’t work,

so to conceive
a common core humanity,

seek deep, sort out
to feel if ’tis best,
in each such case,
to detach
+++++or strive to reconcile,
so wholeness is, at last, restored,

at such a time
when this dread storm
has blown right past
and can be deemed completed.