Truth: As much as I can stand it
Some days I awaken cruel, with mud-caked eyes, peering out upon a dirty world, and bitterness springs up within, like weeds. Wishing hard that I were weedless, I fix outward instead, looking to see what weeds there are in the garden of others. Oh what weeds I can find!, for they are always there, and a fire ignites within, like the sun. “You are all full of weeds, and you are choking the world!” I can say.