Hate. These are the words that are painted across all of our faces. Invisible scars which have wounded souls and torn at our hearts. Hate. Just as pure water can become turgid, minds can become caught into the metamorphisis that starts when there is no love. Hate. Is there a difference between apples  red or green? Are not two little boys completely equal regardless of their exterior? Hate. A jagged knife that rips apart flesh and creates tears of blood, a weapon born from scorn and sorrow. Hate. No one will ever be immune, from this plague that oozes through the pores of all evil. Hate. Will we ever conquer this or will it conquer us? How many more shall die? How more bells will cry for those affected by hate? Hear them ring, the echo crying across endless fields.

Hate.

Hate.

Hate.