A requiem of hatred

To kill, to skin, to harm,

to hurt, to scream, to bleed—

aren’t these

better alternatives?

 

To live in fear

of your own flesh, emotions,

to hold dearly onto something

that makes you bleed, bleed out—

to wake up shaking,

“theres no-one here”

Aren’t these

just pathetic?

 

If I die, I’m taking you with me.

I wish all the same harm

you’ve unknowingly placed

upon this wretched body, mind, soul,

to you, my beloved.

I pray that you’ll show me

you’re truly sorry,

before our heads burst open

and we bleed out, becoming one.

 

I hate you.

More than anyone else,

I hope you remember.

To lay my heart bare to you,

To have it ripped to shreds,

To have it left to bleed out—

To die; to wither

a grotesque flower—

To have it be forgotten.

 

I hope you remember

all of the things I

did for you

—how much I did them out of

love for you.

I hope you’ll remember

what I will soon

do to you

—how much I’ll do it out of

hatred for you.

 

To skin, to bleed,

let me know you by your pure blood;

and bury you with mine

From love to hate,

I hope you’ll one day show me

you’re truly sorry.

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