Hate

I am trying not to hate,
every day and every night.
Its happened but I wait,
every day and every night.

Only a look in the mirror breaks,
my belief of being him and not me.
My every day and my every night
are his every day and every night.

Is it the end or just a break,

either ways it absolves my plight.

To wake up to the world around me

smelling the roses, seems so right.

Hate cures, 

at least whats inside.

To drain a wound,

is what fixes it right.

 

Happier now, I  let it go,

and start to hate,

and let it grow

one wound at a time.

Now when I look in the mirror,

I see a promise of great things, 

small things and big things 

that are all good things.

Every thing is me now,

seems right and bright.

My every day and my every night

are now just my every day and every night.