Hate

Why do I continue to fight, to use dispensable words of nothingness, that never make him crack.

I detest myself for never letting anyone in, for living my life in the confinements of my constricted realm, a realm that never needed me.

What did I ever do to warrant them to allow me not to feel love?

I was a child, dressed in the devil's red silk, a child no one cared for.

Why does he yell and call me names, and why do I let myself take it?

He is my father, but never has been there for me, he's never said that he loves me or that he cares.

I hate him for breaking me, and making me what I am.

Yet my heart throbs to feel the love from an affectionate soul, love that is beyond my comprehension.

Fucked up is what I am, and nothing can bend me from hating my grotesque self.

I'll always be an imbecile, and do us all wrong.

I can't keep living my life in strife for him or anyone anymore.

I fuckin hate her too, for being so weak.

I hate that she'll never be the woman I loved so much before.

She's gone, but I need her more then ever right about now.

I need to feel her strength, to have her speak up for me once in awhile.

I loved her so, but now she is no more.

I need my mom, to be my mom again.

I hate myself for hating her, for making her feel so small.

I feel an abundance of love for her, and I have to make her hear how I feel.

I am miserable, sis, for those years, but I want you near, to share all that crap together, to giggle at the highs & scream at the bull shit.

Sorry is what I mumble.

Disregard who wrote this, for I am no one, I could be you....don't think too hard.

I am everything we all fear, a being with the capability to probe.

I hate everything, and everything fuckin hates me.

Copy Right: Erin Birtwistle 1998