Hate Is What I Bought
Silver does not smoke a fire into dollars.
A tie never hangs a rope to tree the blood to your colour.
Flower is white but never snows.
What did why do for you to know.
I whisper and I scream.
I lip my mouth for a kiss when dream.
Far beyond the moon shines the stars.
Behind my wounds burn viscous scars.
Spellbound by the words inked to my skin.
Witches are cast by the demons I let in.
I surrender to your thoughts.
Please forgive me.
Love I never treasured.
Hate is what I bought.
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Comments about this poem (Hate Is What I Bought by Unic Cjonr )
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827)
William Butler Yeats
(13 June 1865 – 28 January 1939)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
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