Hate weighs on the soul
My energy is drained to the point
Where I cannot muster a vowel
To retell the story of why your
Existence in my heart is detestable.
This victim’s song is familiar
And I hum it softly to myself at times
So soothing is the searing repugnance
That I soon find myself crouched in.
A wounded man’s paradise;
Lulled into a cold slumber
From the melody.
Motionless and satisfied.
Happy from the reality I’ve built:
That everyone is malevolent
Way deep on the inside.
I smile from the safety of knowing that
I won’t ever have to try again;
Underneath the weight of
Offense hitches itself to the hip of the heart
And transitions with me from one stage in life
To the next.
Disappointment thick on my skin;
Radiating from me like an aura
That glows with sweet disdain;
The façade of sweet tolerance and longsuffering
Attempts at masking my heartache,
While the pungent odor
Of hatred slowly seeps it way through.
I have grown wary of the mourner’s sackcloth
And the chains of the slave.
The musty stench of disappointment
Makes me long for fresh air.
I need emancipation from
And the courage to flee
This foggy disposition.