Hate’s a painful
thing to carry around—
It swarms the head like guilt feelings profound,
Confines the thoughts to a merry-go-round,
Corrupts ideas, buries them underground,
Disrupts the senses, renders them dumbfound,
Baffles the reason, rendering it unsound,
Makes one feel stuck, like a boat run aground,
Hardens the soul, like frozen winter ground,
Ties the tongue, makes it still, spellbound,
Impairs imagination, shuts it down.
Swaggering depravity, you vile hellhound,
Get thee behind me, turn yourself around.
I cannot look upon you or your face,
Lest I endure you, pity, then embrace.
CNH 3-8-07For
more info, contact Cassandra
Hancock. |
