Hate, My Beloved One

Image

There’s a lot of love that goes into hate.

To nurse it at our breast.

To nurture it like it were our own blood and bones.

 

We let it burgeon.

We let it rise high.

 

And one day we’re faced with this monster we’ve birthed.

There’s a sharp knife through our back.

Piercing right through our chest.

Because that’s all hate has ever known to do.

Betray.