Sometimes I’m a sexually repressed nun who fell for someone outside the faith,
A guy carrying multiple, heavy bags of groceries for someone who won’t return the favor,
An active volcano building up pressure; threatening to explode with each earthquake,
A homeless, starving, young boy tempted to steal from a fruit vender,
Unspent money burning a hole in one’s pocket as the colorful bonfire sears from within.
Oblivious is the porcupine who’s tiny, insignificant needles prick my nerves.