Hate
Hate, is like Shakespeare's last sound;
A mouses' whisper, it falls to the ground.
You never know it's there, it stays and lies;
And when you catch a glimpse, it shrivels up and dies.
You don't understand, I'm not trying to feel this for you;
But even now, my emotions are so true.
Once again, my heart is going to bust;
Now there's just hate, left lying in dust.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
