I can't understand why anyone chooses hate.
Although it's a choice, it's slowly become fate.
The origin of hate can stem from many places,
but it always leads to an overwhelming fear.
A fear that eats through all peoples and races
and tears through the objects that some hold so dear.
How can one hate a symbol or a line or a word?
Yet when they are tied to a history,
they become so deeply disturbed.
Now the seeds that were sown so long ago,
have grown twisted and gnarled, demanding such woe,
that its branches pierce through skin and bone
and break our souls into shards of stone.
But those heavy stones, they too have a choice:
they can stay where they are, or roll towards the light.
If they stay where they are, they can relearn to grow.
If they choose to move forward, they can teach what they know.
Either way, they get asked once more:
will you love or hate?
Will you sink or soar?
YOU ARE READING
Ghostwriter
PoetryLiving with mental illness can oftentimes trap one within the inner maze of their mind. In that place, dreams, fears, wishes, and regrets all compile together to create a new world far from the one we physically exist in. At times, it becomes easy t...
