A Poison Tree, by William Blake. HD

This is my quick commentary on grievances, drama, and the resolution thereof. This old poem sums it up my sentiments on the matter perfectly. A Poison Tree. I was angry with my friend: I told my wrath, my wrath did end. I was angry with my foe: I told it not, my wrath did grow. And I watered it in fears Night & morning with my tears; And I sunned it with smiles, And with soft deceitful wiles. And it grew both day and night, Till it bore an apple bright. And my foe beheld it shine, And he knew that it was mine, And into my garden stole, When the night had veiled the pole; In the morning glad I see My foe outstretched beneath the tree. A Poison Tree. By William Blake, 1794.