thisweirdthingwedidinclass.

There is no hate so hurtful, so full of malice as mine.

In little impulses it comes. Hurting the ones i love and scarring the people i loath. In plain sight there is only dry, aggresive hate.

There are bursts of rage. Great overpowering rage. Some can be for the good others, for the worst.

There are screams. Screams that yearn for more of the hate to come out.
Pouring.

Outside my head, the hate burns my skin and i can feel the malice in my veins.

And if you lie there and watch as the hate unleashes itself and the malice shows, you too will begin to loath.

And all around you, you will notice that the hate is what makes everybody a little bit impure on the inside.

And toward the end, the onlything that we will have left is the HATE.