I resent not those who were born wealthy,
But those who have draped the murks over my fragile body.

I resent not those who have their journey guided by the angels,
But those who have made me dressed in mourning black, 
Putting my cries to silent. 

I resent not those who have their lips carved with a smile,
But those who have painted my face with sadness. 

I resent not—
I want to have no more resentment thrived from the root of my grounds,
But all I want is an ear to listen my every breathe,
A hand to hold me—
To guide me, 
And a pair of strong arms which would keep me, cocooned like a butterfly in their silky case. 

All I want is what I would not have.
All I want is what people are unable to promise.

But,
I'd be sad no more—
I will never be, 
Just please, for once. 

That is all I want. 

—Jane L