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I took my broken pain

and laid it in a cradle;


I hid it from the world

in the dark corners

of my secluded dwelling,

caressed it tenderly,

and fed it bite sized bits

of anger and contempt,

until it blossomed

the most beautiful hatred

I have ever known.


It stretched forth vines

-gnarled and twisted-

with barbed thorns

that clung

to my every limb,

enshrouding me in a deep

and comfortable nirvana.

How I hate


how much I love

my hatred-

the only genuine gift

I can give freely.