A Man Named Hate
I once met a man named hate,
A man who wore a frown,
Who wouldn't wait,
Would always put you down.
Hate was powerful and strong,
He would wreck everything in his path.
Hate could thrive for only so long
With his painful wrath.
He had bridges burned
Of things he wished he'd be.
It was then I learned
He was part of me.
I once met a man named hate:
Peace, he could not see.
I once met a man named hate.
I then set that man free.
Dead Pirate John is 16 and a sophomore in high school. He was born and raised in Pittsburgh. He works at Kennywood park over the summer, and gets a lot of inspiration for poems and short stories there. He is currently working on his first novel, titled The Man Who Lived to Die. This is his first publication of any kind outside of schoolwork.
