I wore out my welcome before I was born;
I will never play Kate to your Petruccio.
Adversity has been my most constant friend
You cannot teach things that I already know.
James Ward, A Farmhand Riding Side-saddle, Carrying an Urn.
Disapprove of me all you please;
Censure has always been my lot.
All those things you’d prefer not to remember
Are things for me too dear to be forgot.
Your outcasts do not always wither away;
Sometimes they flourish in alien soil.
And sometimes the ones you sought to destroy
Are the very ones you cannot despoil.
T. L. Ryder 
“Your outcasts do not always wither away;
Sometimes they flourish in alien soil.
And sometimes the ones you sought to destroy
Are the very ones you cannot despoil.”
This is an amazing stanza! Love the entire poem. I look forward to reading more.