The Things We Make

 Hate wroughts hate,

    Pity the same way,

But pain is measured in pain,

    Hate in hate,

Those who hate themselves,

    Get lost in the same fate,

They sit there hurting with malicious intentions,

    Disgusting even themselves, a smile on their face,

 Nefarious criminals lacking grace,

    Filling a void with gross pretense to participate,

They vindicate positions while others truly vacate a healthy trait,

    Real sorrow masked with smiles laced with internal debate,

To flight or flee some sort of carnal desire we can all relate,

    Instead most run in fear, an endless race,

Tearing up concrete so no one can ever catch them,      

    While tearing up so bad because somebody has abused them,


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