I knew a man, his father's son,
His mother's little baby boy.
He was his grandfather's pride and joy,
The happy child playing at school.
A good son, he went to church.
He was the husband of a beautiful wife,
The father of small children he loved,
And who loved him in return.
He was kind, he was dedicated,
Successful, honest, and true.
You disagreed with him,
Called him a Nazi, a hater.
You cheered at his death, this man—
This man of flesh and blood,
Just like you, with flaws,
With opinions unlike your own.
You said he was the evil one,
Filled with hate,
But you pulled the trigger.
You rejoiced at the blood spatter
As he lay dying in his blood
From a bullet wound.
Who is filled with hate?
I think it may be you.