Poems

Hate

Hate.
Hates everywhere, any history book can tell you that.
Men earn more than women.
We keep getting bombed.
And we have idiots in charge.
But they can't hear the screams of the depressed, they can't hear the screams of the dying.
But they sure as hell hear the sound of the money going into their bank account.
I hate this, you hate this but as youth, we still have no power. Because the youth voted to stay, the youth voted for labour. We got neither.
The youth are the future but where is our voice.
Because we scream, we aren't quiet.
We scream in anger, in pain.
James cordons my hero because he was the ONLY one who cared about the MEN staff in the attack, despite even the managers being under 25.
But you didn't know that, no, we were traumatised, out of work for 3 months.
But did anyone care? No.
Those flashbacks will never get out my head & that is something I will have to live with.
But that's ok. I was born in the 90s. We were made strong, not by teaching but by experience.
We can cry in silence but we know we have the right to scream.
Like the screams I heard that day.
Nothing will ever you prepare you for that.
But that's ok, I love my job, so I'll move on.
Just like I did with Syria, Libya and Pakistan because sometimes I feel like I'm the only one with empathy.
To empathise is not to apologise, it's not to turn a blind eye to those who still hear the screams at night.
It's to pull on a dark experience that resides within you, to connect on a spiritual level and to show them the light.
But only with darkness is there light.
The yin and yang of life.
But all I see around me is darkness, hatred.
We can't choose who we hate more, ourselves or them.
There's always someone being used as a scapegoat.
Whether it's skin colour, religion, ethnicity or simply just the way we look or talk.
Whether it's the things we can do.
The things we can't do.
Someone will always hate.
The little men in big office with big chairs and big bank accounts.
They don't care for the screams of the youth or the poor or the depressed.
They care about consumption and tax.
They care about the freeness that is so unnatural in our mechanical world that it drives us to insanity.
Karl Marx once said the workers would unite.
Create a new world.
But where is our new world?
With our voices muffled by the cloths against our mouths held there by corporations and governments.
Hate.
It's a small word.
But it's infectious.
It's everywhere.
It's in everyone.
We've lost before it's even begun.