die, hate.
i am tired of grieving
over lives i can do nothing for
but write another poem
die, anger.
i am sick of cursing
at vague smug faces
memorised
from website photographs-
fat
with the wealth rolling up the chin
and pudgy little fingers
(looking remarkably like mine)
dealing out
judgments dipped
in blood
and gravy
die, hate
die, anger
and take the fingers
as you go,
kill.