Husky
Husky
And what is hate
But who you are?
Blistered by blindness
That has numbed your soul.
Where can you turn to be whole?
All the doors are locked,
And you yourself turned the bolt.
Consigned yourself to the dark
You, who are dead to bird song,
Unable to see the sun,
Who will pick up your pieces
When your rabid ranting is done?