Mya Pitts

Hate is a word that I have known for sometime, 

Hate is something that everyone knows, 

And hate is the thing that grows,

Deep down inside of one’s heart,

Itching and scratching, 

Trying to break free through the cracks 

In the darkness of your heart, 

Hate is a four letter word meaning to despise a person for who they are, what they are, or even for no reason at all 

Maybe just because,

Hate to me is the epitome of all things,

Only because I have yet to see the good in a person,

No one ever sticks their neck out for another,

Only because we are afraid of dying for another,

We shield our eyes to what’s in front of us

and leave our backs wide open, 

Trust can be broken 

and we sit doe eyed to the injustices presented before us,

Because as long as it does not affect you personally,

Cross your line,

In the back of your mind, 

You think that it is safe,

But hate will always get the best of you

because Hate is something we all have, 

Whether we want it or not

A non-refundable present for life