A Poison Tree by William Blake

With great anger I did look at my friend
with untold wrath
wrath without end
I looked into his eyes
that I did, my wrath
growing only stronger
stronger still.

I watered it with fear
night and morning drenching it in my
tears
sunning it with smiles
and deceit and wile.

And it grew day and night
til it bore fruit
a shinny apple
which my foe my sworn enemy
too could see
this delicacy shining
gleaming in the sunset
and he knew this hatred fruit
was mine
to eat, mine alone
for he was free of such
misery and turmoil
his heart open to loving
embrace.

And so into my garden I stole
through that night veiled
and in the morning
finally I came upon my enemy
sitting there below the shade
of the tree.
Come on!
Eat the fruit!
It is meant for you.
Spill its seeds into your
insides so that you can
be a host to the same hatred
the same despise that
I have for you,
though of course,
it’s not really you I hate
but myself.