Hate Poem by Shane Dickie

He learns hate early in life.
He knows not his father,
Who is absent, a mother
Who is distant.
His reasons for caring
Are dwindling, no direction
Encouragement or love,
His future is fast tracking
Down a desperate path,
Of abuse, violence and despair.

The only passion he has in
Abundance is hate and hate
He has in spades, his troubles
Migrate to school where
Disciple comes much too
Late, like putting a band-aid
On a gaping wound the law
Is further salt to add, his hate
Has deepened, his bitterness
Makes vinegar seem sweet
By comparison