The Hate I Drew

I said I hate you, but it wasn’t true.

A venom loosed before I knew its weight.

My deepest regret is the hate I drew.

My voice had cracked; my shaking chin withdrew.

Too young to grasp what harm a word creates.

I said I hate you, but it wasn’t true.

A whip of sound, a wound I never knew

Would echo into years I’d sit and wait.

My deepest regret is the hate I drew.

What did a child know? Fury, brief and new

A mimicry of storms they can’t translate.

I said I hate you, but it wasn’t true.

Regret seeded, then bloomed, the whole way through.

Rising in the decades lying in wait.

My deepest regret is the hate I drew.

For you, my sister, were only passing through

The same confused terrain of childhood’s state.

I said I hate you, but it wasn’t true.

My deepest regret is the hate I drew.