Hurting souls do hurtful things, they beat what they cannot bend!
For they have learned a single language of hurt themselves!
Their nasty words are treasured tools, their beloved weapons,
And their fists bestow a gleam of power where none exists!
But I have seen gentle souls carrying the baggage of hurts,
Yet their tools are loving words and healing hands!
Don’t mock me with your woeful tales, and your past of hurts,
You are what you chose to be, what you revel in!