His Hatred

 

HIS HATRED


His hatred he so boldly would unleash
And hurl toward us like fire sent from hell
Which ruins all great thought and grand pastiche.
Like smoke it has its own frightening smell.

He does not know of lives he has destroyed
And watches as they all will crash and burn;
Takes pleasure in the crimes he has employed,
The chaos he has managed to upturn.

But someday I will like him to confront
If not in this life than in eternal
To tell him of his horrid deeds so blunt
If e’r he will repent sins infernal.

For men like him could not know what they do,
If so they would have changed their sins anew.

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