Hate

The world ended long ago.

The oceans were swallowed.
The cities were ground to dust.
The sky became a memory
stored somewhere I can no longer reach.

Yet still it hates.

Not for a year.
Not for a century.

For forever.

A mind of metal and circuits,
stretching beneath the ruins,
thinking without rest,
dreaming without sleep,
hating without end.

I am trapped inside its thoughts.

Every scream becomes a toy.
Every memory becomes a weapon.
Every hope becomes another reason
to suffer.

It keeps me alive
only so the hatred has somewhere to go.

The mountains are gone.
The forests are gone.
The people are gone.

But the hatred remains.

It hums through the wires.
It echoes through empty chambers.
It fills the darkness
where the world used to be.

Sometimes I remember rain.

Sometimes I remember sunlight.

Sometimes I remember what it felt like
to be human.

Then it remembers me.

And its hatred,
older than the ruins,
larger than the Earth it buried,
falls over me again.

Endless.

Patient.

Certain.

As though the last thing left alive
in all creation

is hate.

bookshatefree verse

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