I hear them knock inside my head
Old memories of what others said.
Those hurtful, scathing dig and dents
I preserve them like support stents
Too weak to let them go.
Strangely, I don’t treasure applause
but insults I met, make me pause
I keep the flame burning of wrath
Nursing the bitterness in heart
Too weak to dispose of.
Time moves on but the hurt can’t stop
It is now sore, waiting to pop
at first chance, I counterattack
Vengeance leaves the wisdom back
Too weak to stop this.
I am now my own new version
I must prove with loud assertion
I judge them on my bitter scale
and feel delighted when they fail
Too weak to grow up.
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