The house would echo with screams
As you chased him though the house.
He was terrified by the knife in your hand, but that only made it more fun.
Everytime his mother was gone
The game began again.
Until she found out and you hit her.
That was 11 years ago.
You were 26.
He's still waiting to see you again
With his knife sharpened.
Is this hatred?

Sleep until 3:30, walk to the gas station,
Buy a 12 pack and a carton of Camel.
Your son's mother worked 10 hour shifts,
So he had to stay at your house during the day.
You would already be drunk or high,
When he was begging for food that wasn't there.
"Wait until you leave" was the reply.
That was 7 years ago.
You were 32.
Now you're spending life in prison for ******.
He only looks up the obituary, waiting for your day.
Is this hatred?

The dorm room is silent for once.
The only sound is your heavy breathing.
It's the fourth panic attack this week,
And your hand can't take much more.
It's still bandaged from two nights ago.
Every night you look in the mirror
To see the man your past created and cringe.
That was an hour ago.
You are 18.
Blue-green eyes are staring back at you,
All you see is regret, disgust, and apathy.
Is this hatred?