MR. BRAY

Studios, LLC

503-334-7521

       MR BRAY

A boutique design & animation shop that dissolves the line between studio and agency.

Hate

Poem by: Jesse Bray


Hate is the greased hands of my life

I slip and stumble on life's troubles

Lashing out

Lacking self

Aware

I collect by arms folded

The spirit within me made me do it

Or did it?

Was this oily substance 

That forgets of forgiveness 

It burn to much to let it subside 

It hurts to much to let it slide

My bitterness

Fuels my hearth

It's wrong

Yet feels correct

I tick and tally all my reasons why

I

Hold

On

But then again it's just hate

The greased hands not fate

That pretend to keep me alive

For hate is

And hate takes

From future past and present

I want to believe in

Being forgiven

Being forgiving

But why?

When this fire burns 

Burns 

Burns 

So bright

But when will it end?

I can't keep up

I'm filled with it

And it burns my throat

I am the screaming soul

The scorching wind

It has echoed through my heart

I need to believe I can let go

Let go

Of the brightly dim light

To tell it 

No

No

No

That I can live again

Without hate