They go out of their way to destroy the hated.
Feeling fleeting satisfaction following the frowns of those they persecuted.
It feels as if there is nothing the oppressed can do about the sticky situation, always asking for alternatives to confrontation
there is a "knock knock knock" on their brains telling them to "knock knock knock" the other person down, but they don't. They won't be the predator pushing around panicking prey, prancing around all day.
Ah, a grin spreads across the evil face, carrying themself with the utmost grace...
No one else can see it, because they are treating some with kindness while killing others with their constant cruelty.
Hate is hidden.
Deep in a corner in the dark.
It's dangerous and determined, prowling in the shadows of all minds, stalking, searching, seeking opportunity.
When it finds opportunity, it's feeble prey, it surfaces silently from its shadowy home and goes in for the kill.
That is when the seed is placed in the mind. Even though it is a rotten, decayed, ruined seed...
It still will grow.
Why? Well, most people don't know.
YOU ARE READING
Hate.
PoetryThis is a poem about hate, obviously. You can probably tell from the not so creative title. It doesn't seem like much of anything but it represents being torn about whether one should lash out against people who hate and abuse them or stay silent, l...
