The hate you keep inside won’t help you float.
But you cling to it, so below you.

Push it under you, to get above the waves.
But eventually the swell will drag you to hell.

Cling to it so below you.
It’s weight will stretch your arms.
Drag you down.

Down into the undertow. Against progress.
So vile, repugnant and insipid. You rot.
Your fingernails leave scars on hate.
You cling to it so.
But shout opposed to such accusation.

Now low enough the crash of the waves blind you.
Squinting through their spray, you struggle.
Treading in denial as you try to pull your hate to breast.

I’d reach out to you, if your hate wouldn’t drag us down together.
And we’d be clinging to something so below you.