I could ramble ceaselessly,
Head ramming concrete walls,
Of all the bruises and of all the strain.

I could curl in agonized frustration,
Fists pumping unsplinting doors,
From all the unresolved questions and searches.

I could sulk and fret,
Tears carving creases in youthful silk,
From all of the wrongs left without vindication.

Or

I could accept the lashes,
Sudden, sharp razors across raw flesh,
Acknowledging that this too shall pass.