I realize that you probably hate me.
Don't worry
I hate me too.
You say that you don't,
but I see the anger, the sadness, the disgust
that lives and thrives on the lies
that are told, either for the
protection or self-gain of those who tell
them.
Your disgust thrives on my flesh,
eats into my bones,
leaches into my brain.
Shatters me.
I realize you hate me.
Don't worry
I hate me too.
I draw on my wrists with silver
but
it
comes
out
red.