Colin F. Jones

ABUSIVE PEOPLE

Doth not the seed of hate grow in abuse,
Into a flower ashamed and bent in fear,
With fading hopes; “for what’s the use”
When the ugly nettle still is standing near.
Yet greater vision one day calms the sight
That views the beast in all its pathetic form
Sees the cowardice resident in its might
Discovers that the beast is but a worm.
Those who abuse are always lesser types
Than what they propose to be from far away
Who lack the courage of their cowardly hypes
To face a man who opposes what they say
On children and on women they do prey
Encouraged by forgiveness of their way