I wish I could be reticent.
Hold my thoughts in because they bear no response from you.
I wish I didn’t niggle.
Keep my words mental because you do not care for verbal.
I wish I could despise you.
More than I tell myself I do, even though we both know that’s not the truth.
The desperate need to watch you wither for the pain you cause is burning in me at an unbearable peak.
Your filth floats to my nostrils and I gag for release.
Your lies and pretense cover the facade.
The mask you wear has merged into your features, and your synced blend makes it hard to see you suffer.
Like truly suffer.
Knowing you are the web of deceit woven from the womb.
The web of destruction marked for doom.
You leave death in your path, no matter the bloom.
You are not worth the time because the picture you show to the ones you please will only fade because you are a mere memory.
Your filter is undeniably so,
the precedented magnitude of a life that seeks to be fulfilled but never will.
The loathsomeness of your existence has always been a deceiver and betrayer, the only person who cannot see it is you.
The fleshy part of my heart has grown hard with disgust from your perpetuated failure that refuses to end.
Stop!
Just stop while you are at it because your default is never going to admit that you fucked up,
that you did me wrong; that you are the epitome of a heart over-trampled; that your mere existence should be received with despision.
Your selfishness seeks to consume, so when I say I wish I hated you…
I really do.
Recent Comments