I took my broken pain and

laid it in a cradle.


I hid it from the world

deep in the corners of my secluded dwelling -


Caressed it tenderly, and fed it

bite sized pieces of anger and

contempt.. until it

blossomed the most beautiful hatred

I had ever known


It stretched forth vines..

gnarled and twisted.. with

barbed thorns that

clung to my every limb..


enshrouding me in a deep and

comfortable nirvana .


How I hate how I love my hatred..


The only genuine gift

I can give freely.

© Nathan A. Brock