Seeds Of Hate

Lost upon a little wind
My dream has blown away,
Lost another and again
My dream has gone away


I don't remember
Too much sunshine,
There was always rain.

I don't remember
How to win,
But I always played the game.


It's hatred most
That I fear inside,
Another fear, another lie.

The answers, they seem
To create the tears.
A river of salt,
Throughout the years.

Alone without people,
And always a crowd
With everyone praying,
And always too loud.


Creeping away,
I knell by the tree,
With hatred for the one
Who planted the seeds.

by Sandra Osborne

Comments (1)

i like the six line of your poem,