Hate consumes her
soul, a cold, deadly fire.
Her face is like stone, motionless and hard.
Angry hands clench tight as she walks without tire.
Laughter has vanished, happiness is charred.
All of her world is pure black and blood red;
Other shades have faded, killed by her hate.
As she goes on she wishes she were dead,
Rather than living and taking her fate.
Hatred, it burns and devours without end,
Marking the soul that had once been so clean.
Casting aside all those she had called friend;
Feelings so crushing, but as yet unseen.
Jeering memories, cruel, sneering faces
Burn her mind as she ponders and paces.
[NOTE: This poem is an example of persona. The author did not actually feel this and she hopes nobody else does either.]
This page was last updated on February 22, 2003 by the KIWW Webmaster.