Hate is not a Truth and it's not a Thought, yet It is Fine Soil for A Sonnet

Only with great sacrifice and with Pain,
the Raging melody of Racism,
violence and Abuse Spun Around Again,
I turned my Target into a Flower.

My Target was a Wound that Bled Petals

of Despair for every Smear. Jealousy

too! my Silken Veins and Yellow Pollen

favored by the Bees who sucked my Honey,

So, Many are the Always I Multiply
my Beauty when the Epithets I hear,

each "Dirty Mexican" that comes to My

ears is the Eternal Verse of Shakespeare.

Hate is not a Truth! Hate is not a Thought,
Yet it is Fine Soil for a Sonnet!