Hate

To never be perfect for anyone.
There is always one person who will.
Hate.

To know hate at a young age,
then to petray
upon another is,
inhumane.

From a child to now,
people glare.
And if they don't, it's cause I am not
there.

Tears roll down the childs face
who's fate,
was to face,
hate.

Senior year.
Things are fading.
Those people who hated,
are disipating.

When that someone smiles ate me,
and I know they care,
makes me understand,
why.

Why I should get up,
why I should do my best.
To please the person who
matters.

Far in the future,
a happy family,
there will be no sorrow, nor
hate.