I don't hate them because they are white,
which would be some people's proclivity.
I don't hate them because they are black,
which would be another peoples' penchance.
I hate them because they are bad unloyal terrible
unforgivable people. I hate them because they
never asked me the questions that seemed so simple
that could have so easily prevented me from hating them.
I HATE THEM WITH MY BLOOD because they have protected
a murderer, with accommodation and friendship, and social
élan while humiliating and blatantly torturing me -with lies
with corner age into something they knew might kill me.
And they did not care an iota. I hate them because I know
that it is not that they care and do not know how to do
anything about it. I hate them because they do not care and
would have the option of doing EVERYTHING about it - easily,
even as their professions. As if they have done nothing that
needed to be done. But everything to stay in power with what
they have done. Which would impress many-many, many- a lot.
A lot. A lot. A lot! And I hate them most for not letting them
impress me at all and actually filling me only with a hate
that could kill me. Frankly, they have driven me out of town;
I just haven't left yet to catch up with my spirit which precedes me.
Very relevant poem! I don't hate them but I despise because they lie like an overfed donkey.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
To hate is to debate whether to leave or stay. The day will come when a decision must be made.
Hopefully, the means will come when a decision must be made. It's boiling down to an economic reason I stay. My emotions feel they need to leave.