Poem- Hate

Hate is when you don’t have all the answers that you need

While someone else does

It’s when you open your eyes to the blinding sun

Which promises the whole day

But then you can’t get out of bed

It’s when you think the people next to you are talking about you,

Mocking you and your pride, but your psychiatrist tells you

You are just being paranoid

It’s when you almost don’t love your dog because of a crazy driver

That almost ran him over, and you curse the driver and his expensive car

It’s when the people who read your poetry and short stories

Only read them out of spite

Because they have a complex where they hate you because they think

You think that you are better than them

And when the kid walks up to you and asks about it

You say it’s all in his head

And then he walks back to his classroom and you walk back to yours

And during break you pass the room again to see the look on his face

And you can’t tell what he’s thinking because it is his best poker caricature

And then you go home and write new poems called “crazy” and “love”

And the back of your head gets hot at the thought of him reading it

And you see him in the hall two days later and he ignores you

Or hate is when you plant a garden that never grows

Because the squirrels constantly dig up the seeds

And each leap they take that forms an imaginary rainbow

hurts, knowing the fact that they destroyed what you worked so hard for

Hate is right before the morning sun peaks over the horizon

And everything that you saw in it as beauty

Has left you because you can’t take it in with only three hours of sleep

Hate is when your favorite painting at the museum is in the corner of the room

Because it wishes to be as beautiful as the bed in the same corner in the painting

And no one understands this ridicule except for you and the very pen you write with

And when the five-year-old in the back of your head tries to connect the pen and a person

Through personification

You suppose her reading level is higher than normal

But not as high as the pigeons that sit on the telephone wire and poop on your new car

That you just had cleaned

Hate is when you don’t want to talk because you feel that everyone that would be listening

Thinks that they are better than you

Hate is what could go on forever if it wasn’t opposed by love

And sometimes even love hurts

Hate is the fact that I can’t finish this

Because I have too many other things on my mind

Hate’s rival is me and my rival is you

But there is no connection