prose

Prose




Lets make this simple..

No funny words and hidden messages

I hate you so much,
How dare u say I like you?
I cannot stand your touch
I cannot stand your smile
Your voice it makes me wanna scream
Your fucked up face brings bile 2 my throat
Your minions piss me off
I can feel this poem turning into prose
I hate the way you stamp your feet
The way you never be brave
I despise the way you push,
Even though I know its for play
I wish youd start the fight
I think id scare u
The rage inside me burns like fire
The ice in my heart shivers
I hate it when you cry
The noise that you make
No I don't feel sorry for you
I feel repulsion
Disgust
it makes me want to cut you out
Delete you from the scene
Damn I hate you so much
What I hate the most is

The fact that I thought I loved you
Man I loved you so much it hurt

Now the loathing is intense
The reason, I have yet to know.

Nice, as long as we're on the topic-

I can't stand to look at you anymore
even though your face still haunts my dreams
and wakes me up screaming in the middle of the nights
blabbering about how I was trapped in a well
as you dangled food out of my reach.
You try to drive a wedge between my life,
my current angel and myself
you can't seem to let go-GIVE IT UP AREADY.
I'm gone, the two of us have ridden into the sunset
and left you in the twilight behind.
Quit nagging at my heels like a puppy trying to bite my legs off.
It's over, your face is dead to me.
Then why are you still trying?


Why am I stressing over it? You're nothing to me
but you might be something to her, a source of slander
you've tried already to raise the suspicion of the angel
but that backfired on you, we're closer than ever now
so I have to thank you for that.
But no more.
Rip out your vocal cords when you see me,
they've got no use to me.
And don't you dare go about the campus and spread your lies
like a farmer spreads his seeds hoping something grows.
At least the farmer is worth something.
I can't see what I saw
in fact, I've forgotten everything there was to forget.
Now it's your turn. Forget me.
It'd be better off for you.

(Who are you again?)