Hate. Part 1.

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]


[1] 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.

[2] 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!




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