Goddess of Hatred

Hair as white hot as her rage.
Face red with the boiling of blood.
One eye blinded by fury.
One eye pierces with discontent.
She shouts in her silence.
Nostrils flared, prepared for violence.
She only knows tension.
She loathes compassion…
and words that reek of love.

Goddess of Hatred, how may I honor you?

Don’t tell me to love the world when I can only truly love a few.
I won’t join you in your spiritual sparkly juju
And claim to love all the fucked up parts of you.
Most shrivel and die before they ever bloom.

I’m not really the Goddess of Hatred
I’m more the Goddess of “I can’t stand that fake shit”

The vast majority of everything in the universe I can’t control…
so a lot of what I tell you to do is let go.
I roll my eyes at the fairies and the angels
getting their bleeding hearts deeply entangled
with those that habitually strangle their own potential

Don’t waste my rage on the unsavable.
They’ve made their own destruction inevitable.

I’m a fortress of refined fury.

I know you’ve only known anger as an unruly beast
who drags you into realms of chaos.
But I do not play that child’s game.

Serenity is a dear friend of mine.
She helps me conserve my potency and use it with integrity.
I rest in her embrace and she turns my white hot rage into a star.