Forgiveness Poem by Aidan Clevinger

'Tis my belief that every man,
In some dark and dreary hour,
Takes for himself, in secrecy,
The pleasures of Resentment's power.

How oft it seems a grievous thing,
Deep laden in our chest.
But how loathe we are to give it up
At another man's behest!

What sinful desires, watered much,
Grow inside our hearts?
What seeds of hate fall in the soil,
Where the devil plays his part?

A burden anger surely is,
But a burden that we treasure.
And how hard it is to forgive,
When in so doing we lose its pleasure!