Hate

Hate is a strong word, but a true one. Mom told me not to say hate of those cold words. They have a knack to kill the heart and soul. I don't care. I would and will take that chance. I walk to the jail, take a right, and glare at him. He glares back. He's in a cage, his new home. I hope his food is spit on and, his clothes stay stained. My gaze goes up to his hate filled eyes. "I know," I said with a face of stone, "I hate you, too."