I cannot write about hate

I cannot write about hate,
it is a language so alien to me.
The language of destruction a void of hope and
free from anything worth cherishing other than the void.

I cannot write about hate
that kills without thinking of the connection between humans and human worth.
Why kill and have no feeling or remorse for the act.

I cannot write about hate
as I do not understand its destruction of the heart
and its total ripping apart of senses that makes a person human.

I cannot write about hate
as when I do it makes me feel so immensely sad,
the depression weighs down on me like a huge tree has died and fallen on me crushing me into the ground.

I cannot write about hate
as when I do some of those barbs that scratch and gnaw and destroy begin to  enter into me,
they burrow into my head and fester.

I cannot write about hate
as more the festering bile wells up within me I become the hate that destroys without feeling, that destroys without any notion of decency, that destroys without any emotion or sense of wrong.

I cannot write about hate
because the hate takes over and destroys all the atoms of love and kindness and gentleness and delicateness that being a human being needs.

I cannot write about hate because I become Hate.

GRAHAM C LINDSAY