I'll tell you this:
I dislike balloons
For the stink of latex,
And the sniveling shrink of
What is basically nothing
When a little too much air
Snaps the illusion
That dreams can be contained.
I dislike balloons
Lying shrunken in the sand
Threatening wildlife with extinction
By looking so much like food.

Is this a poem about hatred?

No, indeed.

It is a poem about foolish metaphors.

Let every breath you take rise to the clouds,
Dissipate,
And move on.

Holding a balloon,
You do not own life
But remember it.


That is not enough;
In fact, it is nothing.