DEATH OF HATE

- “It eats and it is eaten”

A scowl that gave birth to a spark. A spark- that grew in size. Burning every bit of flesh it could reach out to. Tearing it down. Bit by bit, the flesh is cooked.

No shriek comes out. And the fire doesn’t stop. It crawls too slowly. Leaving out nothing. Its tongues tasting the meat.

It urges to kill. To taste pain. For nothing else, would make it stop. It relishes pain- the fire. And it prepares the meat- to taste the pain. Pain- not of the self. But of that cause of the scowl. That cause that lit the fire- which fuelled it. It urges the meat to finish the cause.

The meat feels helpless. It wants to finish the cause. But can’t. For, the cause, is in a cocoon. A cocoon, that can never be broken into. The meat burns- hoping that someday, the cocoon would break. And that day, it would finish it; with sheer strength, and no other weapon.

It wanted to relish in the pain of the cause- like the fire. It wanted to see the cause struggle. Hear it shriek. A shriek- that the meat could never let out. It wanted the cause to do it. Only then, the meat would live.

The meat was now coal. Red hot. Burning. But the cocoon was intact. The meat never saw the pain. It could never stop the fire. And soon, it’d be ash: A part of the soil; lost- forever!