The words I love you feel like a knife to my back. A lie. and I'd honestly have you hate my guts then tell me you love me. No amount of reassurance can give me comfort only pain and hate comfort me. I'm a rose of only thorns. And those who touch me get hurt. But I myself pricks on thorns too many a time. The words I love sting in my chest. Like a heavy burden on my heart. I rather hate and pain then love and warmth. My walls will crumble but I will stand tall when you show me hate. But when I'm given love I crumble inside. I crave the toxic the pain the hate brings. Love feels fake. Lie a lie. The words I love you are a knife in my back. A like. I'd honestly rather you hate my guts then say you love me.
