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Hatred


My hatred for you is a beautiful thing
Made up of songs you would not let me sing;
It's tended in anguish and grows in pain.
Your taunts were its sunshine; your scorn its rain.
When you gleefully hurled at me jibes and jeers,
I watered this plant with my falling tears.
Rooted in bitterness and pruned with care,
It grew very fast; and oh, how fair!


My hatred for you is a healthy thing.
It thrives in winter as well as in spring.
Sweet as the opening flowers of May;
Perfect and lovely in every way;
Strong as the love that once was your due,
Nurtured with pride is my hatred for you!

Written by Beatrice M. Murphy (1908-1992)

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