Hatred

Hate. Such a vile word.
The feelings it derives are guttural.
As if I’ve contracted food poisoning.
I hate Peaches. Those
Fuzzy. Devilish fruits. Hanging
Ever so innocently from their trees.
Do not believe them. They are liars.
Their colours welcoming. Yet their
Innards strike a note of
Musky old socks with sugar and honey.
Plotting to ruin another day. Filling it with disgust. Why
Would anyone eat them? Tell me how
Something so beautiful shares the name.
For that, is beautiful. And the fruit. Well
Please burn it with fire.

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