Sometimes I ******* hate you.
The feeling lasts longer and longer each time you snap.
I’m bigger, stronger than you now, but I still can’t stop you.
After all, you are the monster under my bed. The claw round the door, the matted fur and blood in the sink.
You are the bad man.
And that is how it will always be.
You are illogical, unreasonable. You defy rules you impose unto others.
I’ve endured a lifetime of this abuse, And you don’t even apologise the next day anymore.
Because you’ve found a hook, something to blame for your fuckups.
That hook is me.
And so, as you spit in my face, with beer in your blood, you are blameless in your mind.
Hate pushes the shame away.
It just saddens me that I’ve done nothing but forgive you all this time, and all you can do is hate me.