if it's your pain i feel,
i'm living

crushed by heel
stronger than steel,
if i can forgive,
i'm living

hit by hand,
slipper and shoe,
crushed under stand
by bullying shrew,
if i'm surviving
i'm living

but those who delight
in offence and spite,
those who take joy
disturb to annoy,
those who take pleasure
in receipt of cringe,
needling at leisure
like dermal syringe

are dying

they see the morning light
but behold the mourner's night,
see white in Lady Moon
yet are deaf to her gentle tune,
though they breathe air of life,
their air's noxious as carver's knife,
as the shadows of twilight
that close in without respite.