By: Hugh Minh Hader
Photo Credit: Creative Commons
Written in memory of a dear friend, Faith N. Virtue.
My hate is pure as a virgin child,
Who has not yet seen man’s atrocity,
My livid hate is red, bold not mild,
For the deeds done by our humanity.
The concept of love is none but pretense,
That the evil use to conceal their aims,
The love that is “pure” cannot recompense,
For the people and places evil maims.
Faith and virtue no longer can reside,
In the souls tainted by serpentine sin,
This message is one I have to confide,
Since for so long I have kept it within.
Though the world may be a bellicose place,
Its horrors I have no choice but to face.