Spite

In your words and in your thoughts there is so much hate.
Every sentence from your lips is a tad bit too irate
and they spill poison instead of praises. They hurt instead of heal.
You injure, maim, insult, and sometimes even kill.
Spite spills from your pores as walk down the street.
You find something wrong in everyone you meet
and they think they’re in your graces when they’re about to fall.
They never know just what you feel until break them all.
Degrade them with your gaze and spear them with your tongue-
sharp words and condemnation echo like a bell that has been rung
and I cannot even begin to understand just how you love at all
when you’re so content to make your friends feel infinitely small.