Does the tree resent its leaves when they fall in the autumn?
Do the flowers frown upon their petals that drop with the cold?
Do the birds of the air chrill at their colorful plumage that molts with the cold evening air?
Does the river resent the drought that seeps away at her and dries up her banks?
Do I have the right to be angry with my body for one more act of mutany? One more thorn embedded into my side?