The Hate

I hate it.

I hate being in the same country as you.

I need you far away from me.

I hate knowing the air you breathe is closer

Because "I" chose to stay away from you

And I hate that you are disrupting my plans,

Whether you mean to or not.

I hate it.

And this hate

Is all that's left.

I hate the fact that I hate it.

Because I don’t want it.

But I won't fight it, either.

I won’t bother making peace with it

Because I'm too disoriented

To argue with what you do

Or don’t do.

I'm tired when it's this.

This, I hate.

And this hate

It’s the fire that burns water,

The glint in a predator’s eye,

Like the sun breaking over a cracked glass.

Now

Take that glass

And sink it deep into your chest.

Take that pain.

And let it turn into hate.

Because that’s the only feeling you’ve left me with.

And that’s why I hate it.

And hate to hate it.

I can’t even bear the thought of seeing you

In my country.

My territory.

Because it belongs to me.

All these views and tastes you now cherish

They’re mine.

Mine only.

And let me remind you

I posess all the dreams you wish for.

I have what you have,

And what you wish you had.

All of it.

Mine.

And mine only.

I hate that this is all in my head.

And that you’re the one who ignites it.

And I hate it.

Not you.