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Poem

To the hater out there, so hollow, so grim,
Your hunger for chaos spills over the brim.
You fashion your spite into daggers and knives,
But love is an armor that endlessly thrives.

The weight of your scorn, the sting of your blow—
It lands on my soul yet watch how I grow.
For every lash, my kindness replies,
A slap of love to quiet your cries.

Throw it down—all your venom and bile,
Hurl your darkness; it won’t cramp my style.
Each cruel remark, each venomous shove,
Will rebound back, infused with love.

Your curtain of hate may feel iron-clad,
But love is a force no shadow can pad.
It burns with a fire that melts through despair,
Revealing the tenderness buried somewhere.

The more you sneer, the brighter I shine,
A lighthouse unwavering, glowing divine.
Your insults, your rage, your twisted disdain—
Are powerless whispers against love’s refrain.

For love isn’t soft; it’s a warrior's creed,
An infinite answer, a soul’s deepest need.
It doesn’t retreat; it doesn’t disguise—
It stares your hate down with unyielding eyes.

And still, as you jab, insult, or shove,
I’ll rise every time and slap you with love.
Not out of weakness, not out of defeat,
But to show you the strength of a world more complete.

Hate if you must; spill all you possess,
Twist your anguish into ceaseless duress.
But each barb you throw, so reckless, unkind,
I’ll transform and return with peace in my mind.

A gift for a soul that’s lost, unaware,
Drenched in a tempest, gasping for air.
Your rage? Just a mask, your war? Just a plea—
But love is the key that sets both souls free.

So come, heave your fire, let it all fall,
My spirit’s a mountain that’s weathered it all.
For I know the truth that’s written above—
No hate can endure when slapped with love.

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