It begins
a whisper, a narrowing of the eye,
a tiny seed of poison
planted in the fertile dark.
Hate.
It feeds on difference,
on rumor, on the unsaid fear,
bloating silently,
a tumor of the soul.
Then, the bloom:
a barbed word, a fist clenched tight,
a sudden shove,
a fire in the street.
The breaking of glass,
the shattering of trust.
It carves canyons
between neighbors,
between families,
between nations.
The mirror...
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