hate,
hate,
hate,
spreading; constantly growing,
its roots are dug so far in,
it's hard to find the starting point, the very center of it all,
cutting a branch will do no good,
when seeds, cruel and invigorated, are consistently being planted,
being watered with each act of terrorism,
the hate is flourishing,
it's beaming and preening at that fact,
glowing in the sunlight that it's being displayed in.
it needs to be burned,
a pot full of boiling water needs to splash all of the hate,
turning all the weeds yellow— dead, but not forgotten.
we need to get rid of the roots first,
rip them out of the ground,
inbetween the cracks in the cement,
to rid ourselves of the main problems.
and then instead of the abhorrent seeds,
replace them with love,
with kindness.
hate will always be a thing,
terrible acts will still be committed,
but it's worse to sit around and do nothing while the plants spread its roots around the globe,
when you could be making a change.
