That hatred that lives inside man is like a cancer.
It grows and festers and eats and lives because there is not enough oxygen,
not enough life to dispel it.
The darkness eats and festers.
But when light is shone on to it, it starts to cry and fry and it trembles and rebels, and when you
love it and welcome it, it starts to vomit and shake.
It can not stand love, it can not stand being loved and being seen as futile all at the same time.
And with its last breath it realises its source, and it laughs as it dies, wondering why it ever tried to live.
YOU ARE READING
These Poems
PoetryThese poems, I don't know where they come from, I don't know who they are for, or if they are for anyone. Perhaps they are just wild musings with no aim, Or perhaps they will touch someone, heal someone, or take that pain out of them like a surgery...
