Ghost & Gods OF My Name

HATRED

Hatred is a fire dressed as silk,

a bitter cup disguised as milk.

It crawls inside on quiet feet,

then burns your soul

from heat to heat.

It tricks your mind with poisoned art,

sets traps in corners of your heart.

It starts off small, a casual sting,

then grows into a ruthless king.

It hisses, “Hold it—don’t forgive,”

and drains the life you need to live.

It steals your sleep, rewinds your pain,

and whispers lies

into your brain.

It sharpens joy into a knife,

scratches love right out of life.

It makes you fight what isn’t there,

breeding storms

from empty air.

It brags it’s strong—

but hate’s a fraud,

a trembling shadow playing God.

It feeds on wounds you never healed,

on secrets that you kept concealed.

It loves to twist what once was true,

and paints your peace

in shades of blue.

It drains your laugh, distorts your view,

and swears the problem’s never you.

But truth is sharper:

hate’s your thief—

it robs your heart

and calls it grief.

It promises power,

gives you none—

you lose the war

it says you’ve won.

So drop that weight,

unclench your fist—

hate dies the moment

it’s dismissed.

Don’t let it eat

your soul alive—

without your warmth,

it can’t survive.

Q#