I used to rage against the world. Against all the injustices that people suffered. Against the prejudices that people inflicted. Against the lies that humanity bought, and sold.
I still rage against the world now. But the rage is tempered somewhat. With my problems taking over a big part of me. With the knowledge that certain things cannot be changed. With the blind-sightedness that comes with age.
I still cry when I see the old lady sitting by herself eating her bread.