I hate you, but I don’t.
I hate what you do to my mind, but only because I allow it to.
I hate the way you, the passe impression of goodness you project.
I hate you because you had it easy, but I get the short end of the stick.
I hate you because I lost the race to you before I even tied my shoes.
I hate you because the truth caught me by surprise, but I can no longer back away in shame and defeat.
I hate you because I thought I had found happiness, but instead found myself inside another nightmare.
But should I really hate you for the past misgivings I just know now?
Or should I just hate you just for the sake of being able to hate.
I hate having to be miserable, but it is my opium.
I hate having to be down low, but it takes me to new highs.
Hate is my drug.
Hate is my fuel.
I hate myself.
From my bottomless pit of despair and anger, I wallow and gnash my teeth, only to flash my elusive smile to light up the world that I myself threw into darkness.