A Year of Poems – Day 339

When men begin to walk like geese,
And hate in ways that geese can not,
We try to say they are not men
Who love to hate those made like them.
We say they’re monsters, and its true
That all who spit because of skin
Own twisted and perverted hearts,
But Oh the horror of their deeds
Is that our hearts are born like theirs
And just as they have chosen hate
Our hearts could cling to something worse.


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