Take me captive to you, imprison me in darkness, drag me from my home, burn all I love, until I am destitute. Make my heart contrite, batter my flesh, break me like glass. The women of the prison line up for breakfast. Now regret is a toxic poison, bitterness is a cup, difficult to drink— resentment at hardship is even worse; but I am harder on myself than you. Desire, can you see me growing old before your eyes; did I know that those were cold lies that I would gain everything.