I look in the mirror, the subject framed--
A monster-- scarred with decades of conflicts,
But others see a youth perpetually tamed.
The battle fought was all within, only to me explicit.

Strifes with friends all in my mind
Overthought words clog reason. Reserved, but virtuous,
Always expecting the golden rule to apply, though none are kind.
The problem's within me
I am too nice, the other's aren't contemptuous.

I must work to elevate my mind, resent less.
Not my neighbors-- my thought; the catalyst of my growth.
An arduous journey, efforts must remain relentless,
But less rest makes me regress, the ebb and flow,
The didactic struggle of history, in a microcosm so small.

The flight of the mind anchored by the burden of guilt
Each new break through shows a hole in the wall
of yesterday's beliefs towards good,
now a window to a grander one built.

Does every soul struggle with this Hell?
The will to do good not nurtured by nature.
I hope for the best, will good will come? Will time tell?
First my soul must work to mature--
No hatred, love only, for all, no exclusions
For He would do the same, forgive forever.

Each hurtful word said is a soul's laceration.
The ire over, but there's scar tissue--Past's physical identification.