poetry

73

inferno of loathing:

it starts like a whisper, a spark in my chest,
then it flares, it grows, and it never lets rest.
rage swells in my veins, searing and hot,
and im not even sure whats real or whats not.

i lash out, i scream, i tear through the air,
not even aware of the damage i spare.
the words come too fast, the fists follow through,
and i dont even care what i say or i do.

theres no reason, no mercy, no space for remorse,
just a raw, raging beast with no sense of course.
it pulls me, it drowns me, it digs me a grave,
and i let it, because maybe thats all i deserve—
just to cave.

i see your face twisted, feel the sting of your eyes,
but i dont fucking care—no, not about your cries.
i feel disgust, yeah, it burns like a brand,
but i wear it like armor, like blood on my hand.

pathetic? yeah, i know that i am.
worthless? thats the fucking program.
i choke on the hatred that festers inside,
but its the only thing i cant seem to hide.

it boils, it rages, it tears me apart,
and i dont even know how to start—
to explain this chaos, this monstrous scream,
that rips through my soul, killing every dream.

the regret comes later, a shadow so deep,
crawling through the silence where i cant even sleep.
i see all the pieces of the wreckage i made,
but the self-loathing? That never does fade.

it hurts to look back, to see what ive done,
i curse myself quietly, knowing ive spun
this hell from my hands, this ruinous mess—
but somehow it all feels like i deserve even less.

and that disgust just deepens, twists in my gut,
i hate who i am, but cant seem to shut
it down, it just circles, this endless refrain,
and im drowning in pity, disappointment, and pain.

im trapped in this cycle, i claw at the walls,
but the rage, it just laughs as it watches me fall.
i wish i could stop it, but i dont even try—
because whats the fucking point when youre dead inside?