The Sense of Hate Must Die

The last thing to do is killing

But if killing is to do, Hate is to die.

For something to be killed, it must be seen.

Hate is in the eyes of those for whom dissent is inexcusable.

For something to be killed it must be heard.

Hate is in their voices, in the hot rain of bullets from their mouths.

For something to be killed it must be felt.

Hate is in the whips of ages past, and the accusations of ages to come.

For something to be killed it must be smelt.

Hate is in the reek of burning refuse, the stench of untimely death.

For something to be killed it must be tasted.

Hate is in the salt of tears, the metallic tang of innocent blood spilt.

A great man said to fear only fear

The answer for our time is to hate only hate.

Hate is like cancer that builds and grows upon itself

It must be cut out mercilessly, without warning.

There is a danger to changing so drastically

But it is a battle that we must fight, and win.

Or die trying.