Oh oak tree, how they have pruned you. Now you stand odd and strangely shaped!You were hacked a hundred timesuntil you had nothing left but spite and will!I am like you, so many insults and humiliations could not shatter my link with life. And every day I raise my headbeyond countless insults towards new light.What in me was once gentle, sweet and tenderthis world has ridiculed to death.But my true self cannot be murdered. I am at peace and reconciled. I grow new leaves with patiencefrom branches hacked a hundred times.In spite of all the pain and sorrowI'm still in love with this mad, mad world.