Font Color=darkvioletapathy Poem by Jane Meyer

I remember when I used to hate.
I would glare across the table,
hair covering my eyes,
thoughts to kill whirling around.

But then my therapist said something,
that wasn’t too bright.
She said I could only hate someone,
if I felt a little love for them somewhere.

I, of course, knew she was mistaken,
for I can hate someone and not love them at all.
True, love must be involved for hate,
and my dad fills that roll quite nicely.

But I couldn’t allow my therapist,
to think I loved my mom, even a bit,
and hate was getting tiring.
But if not hate, then what?

Well, I just kept listening,
she told me if I really disliked someone,
I wouldn’t care about them at all,
no feeling what so ever.

That was her biggest mistake,
because now that’s what I practice.
She even had a name for it:
Apathy