• Hate is for the weak hearts
    That wither all alone
    And leave the soul an empty cup
    As dry as any bone.

    Hate is for the painful minds
    With nothing more than scars;
    Self-inflicted loneliness
    From wasted wishes on selfish stars.

    Hate is for condemned eyes
    Viewing only memories
    And fleeing from a sight of change
    To dwell on used-to-be.

    Love is for the willing ones
    Whose numbers are so few-
    Yet as they grow to overwhelm
    So does my love for you.