THIS IS ANOTHER NIGHT OF HATRED.
AND I HATE YOU BECAUSE I WRITE SOMETHING
ABOUT YOU; NOT IN THE ROMANTIC WAY
OF SPILLED-INK WORDS BUT RATHER THE AGONY
OF THE PAST YOU BROUGHT TO ME.
YOU WILL NEVER UNDERSTAND HOW LONELY AND
MISERABLE MY SOUL IS, UNTIL YOU CRAWL EACH
INCH OF MY SKIN AND DEVOUR THE POISONOUS
IMAGES OF MY MIND, NOT UNLESS YOU WITNESS
HOW I WAS BORN AND HOW MY EYES GRIEVE FOR
THAT DAY. THIS IS ANOTHER LETTER FOR YOU, THAT
YOU WILL NEVER READ.