The Hating – a poem about…

I didn’t think it was possible for me to store so much hatred inside my soul.
Thankfully it’s kept well hidden deep down in my core,
where it lingers as nothing more than a long term reminder,
of a time when you took delight in torturing my soul.
Memories cannot fade in the same way that physical scars do not either,
no matter how frequently they are both synthetically covered.
Your twisted imagery is burnt into my skin which can never be truly covered,
acting as a painfully wicked reminder of your existence.
I’ve tried to cut you free from my mental landscape but,
that serves nothing more than to cause physical pain,
blood dripping from my wrists onto the beige carpet,
readily accentuating the physical and mental boundaries with even more suffering,
as I feel overwhelming layers of guilt born directly from both courses of action.
It’s not possible to kill you through harming myself,
even though I have frequently dreamt of running you through in the most painful ways imaginable, it will not happen that way.
I hate you with my entire fucking being.
It is a new layer of pain, gifted to me by you.
I don’t want it.
Hate fucking sucks.
I want and need to give it to you.

2 thoughts on “The Hating – a poem about…

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.