I know hate. 

We’ve conversed. 

I’ve been. 

I know my hate 

Is deeper than most. 

And I’ve grown 

To resent it. 

I knew too late 

That my hate 

Was one of a kind. 

I knew it would

Draw attention, 

And I’ve drawn 

Attention to myself. 

Knowing my 

Own capacity 

For malice. 

Knowing its well 

Was deeper 

Than I remember 

Digging it. 

Knowing my 


To see in the dark

Was too easy. 

That it came 

too natural. 

That I was meant 

To struggle

In finding light. 

So who am I?

If not a child 

of the night? 

Only a liar


He was a part 

Of the truth. 





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allets's picture


I know depths and accepted when on my own at eleven joy was an apex connected by a predominance of nadirs. Hate occasionally flared, more love and faith though sustained, protected, and bouyed me to now. May you love courageously.


Hate is easy

love is where

sweat resides.





Sky's picture

Love that piece at the

Love that piece at the bottom! 

We'll just keep writing 'til there's nothing left to write.

We'll just keep waiting 'til they read all our works left to right.