Poison as pure as hate abounds in me,
And yet I hold in hand my heart: a vial
In which I keep this fatal chemical.
Its potency is fierce! A drop as small
And faint as dew upon a blade of grass
Is apt enough to still a beating heart.
My vile heart, this vial! I can distinguish not
Betwixt the two, for both are brimming
Containers bottling identic venom.
O, loving Hate, thou art my heart’s poison.