Hate

I hate it when people stare
And laugh at me.
It’s like I’m a growth on someone’s
Back and you never see it, but
You know it’s there.

I hate it how everything I let
Go of has the tendency to
Not return.
It’s like being on a high jacked plane.

I hate the way I look, how people
Judge me for what I have, and
Not what I choose to hide.
Maybe I should have my skin ripped
Off and stitched back on inside out.

I hate it how my life feels like
It’s on a merry-go-round
Charted to Satan. Or maybe
I’m just his spawn

I hate it when people lie to me.
Why lie when I tell you
The truth from heart
All the time?

I hate not being loved by anyone.
I want to know what it’s like
To be wrapped in someone’s arms,
And knowing I’m not falling.

I hate it how I’m going to
Die someday.
Not knowing if it’s going to hurt,
Or if it’s going to be in fear.

I hate being hated.
Being hated I hate.

Bronwyn Bell

Copyright © 2004 Bronwyn Theresa Bell