Hate, do I like it? Do I want it?
I must, because it lingers like a bad smell.
I complain about hate, but nothing happens.
If I didn’t know better I’d admit I LIKE to hate.
I hate them. They hate me.
My friends hate you.
I love my friends.
So, I hate YOU.
Where did it come from?
Father says THEY are all alike.
Mother says THEY only think about ONE thing.
So, as a woman, I’m allowed to hate men?
Why does it persist?
Is it because Eve bit the apple?
So as a Man, I’m allowed to hate women?
So says my priest, my rabbi, my mullah.
Why do I hate strangers?
Is it because they committed an evil upon me in a past life?
Is it because I have so many more turns to make upon the Wheel?
So says my guru, my brahmin, my spiritual guide.
Hate. [1, 2]
 First part in a series of short studies touching on hate as a behavior. The goal is to find something that resonates with you, oh Gentle Reader. If there are other studies in this series, you can find their links here.
 My apologies to real poets. The fact that this came out looking even remotely like poetry was unintentional. I tried to write poetry once, in public, and the result was a disaster. I would not do this to you on purpose!