Hate is never describes as pretty
Never looked at like a blooming flower
Sprouting life into the ground
Bringing fresh air into the sky
For the wind to carry high

Hate is never described as a butterfly
Every flap of flight signed by grace and beauty with a ballpoint pen
Every color a screenshot of pure emotion
Every movement architected to perfection modeling God’s holy touch

Hate is always described as
Ocean waves washing you down to deeper waters until your dying in the very thing you need to live
Or thorns and weeds growing in a garden, attacking every plant like they are thoughts in my mind
Or fire spreading and growing and burning everything it touches, flames licking at my body till I’m ash
Hate is always described as poisonous, cruel, evil,
Because that is the way it makes you feel
Hate is really a sculpture
Every line shows something new
Every curve a double meaning
Every smile hiding something cold
Every eye revealing something untold
Hate is the sculpture and the sculptor
Mastermind of its own masterpiece

no one sees the flower in the fire that burns in my soul
No one sees the roots in the deep wading water threatening to take hold

If hate was a fire, we wouldn’t allow it to control

Hate blooms and blossoms into our life slowly
It starts as a fleeting thought
Planting roots in your mind
Then your questions becomes answers
A system stems and builds leaves of loathing that infiltrates your heart
The despise desperately develops in the depths below my diaphragm
And a flower of hate blooms from a beating heart I don’t even want beating anymore

Hatred is a flower.

It blooms it doesn’t seize
It grows roots so deep
Twisting and turning around every *****, every emotion, every thought
Until it’s impossible to **** it without killing yourself

Hatred is a flower and it makes you into soil
Decaying in despise and detest of love
Until body deflates in the darkness of your soul
-S.L.K.