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Breaking Shackles of Hate
Spite as chain — care as wedge.
Hate festers like stored bile — ire that eats the container, malevolence seeking breakage for its own appetite.
Aversion guides it. Wrath piles high. Bitterness fuels the inferno that knows no retirement age.
The beast roams and devours — peace among the debris, love among the splinters.
Conquered is not sermon word. It is labor: shield of care, kindness as wedge in the link.
Build new room where spite cannot rent the whole house.
Fight hate with love is declined as poster. Accurate is choose care until the chain rusts through.
The shackle still bites. You still drive the wedge.
JV · Dark Heart Labs