Love and hate, two words
now made windy by insincerity,
like sorry or mea culpa (my bad)
to keep some false shallow peace.
Apologies mean little as expressing
regret where no fault or damage was done,
ad infinitum. I’m sorry,
but I’m so not sorry.
No, I don’t love that man nor hate that one,
love does not conquer all without wisdom,
or discernment of the scorpion’s sting.
Call me misanthrope if you like,
or cantankerous skeptic.
I like some people, hate others,
present company excepted.
Words with meaning and grace
make life tolerable. Nothing is perfect.
Look both ways, into self and judging others.
Mind the gaps of deception.