Hate, Anger, And Malice

Hate,
Anger,
And malice.
The tools
Of our undoing.
The things
That will cause our demise.
The bombs
That will be the destruction
And downfall
Of all humanity.
And what is left
Of my sanity.
Although,
There are days
When I feel as though,
There is a hope.
A hope
For our survival
And a world
Without hate,
Anger,
And malice.
To this feeble hope
I cling.
For fear
If I release it,
Or let it be free,
That it will leave me
Emptily filled
With hate,
Anger,
And malice.
But when days come
And I do release it,
Or it slides through my fingers,
Like smoke
Through my grasp,
I become overwhelmed
By hate,
Anger,
And malice.
I say things
That I neither mean,
Nor control.
And these things,
They hurt those of whom
Are dearest to me
And are held near
To my heart.
And too soon,
Disputes have arisen.
And are downfall
Is upon us.
But yet,
All of this has happened,
Without our knowing of it.
For that delightful bit,
We have to thank,
Hate,
Anger,
And malice.