Hurting

I said I'm hurting, but I didn't say
How I was hurting, nor did I say why.
You used to cause me pain once, and someday
I swore I would return it, though I die.
I used to curse at you and at the sky,
And kneel before whatever god, to pray,
That seemed most probable to answer my
Fervent desire that you ought to pay
For what you did to me. And now, instead
Of futile wails, I take in my own hands
To power to reciprocate the past.
I'll make you, like I did, wish you were dead
And as the hurt you feel slowly expands
I'll know I'm hurting you myself at last.