the pain that strikes in the heart, murders your feelings, tears you apart,
its a feeling of disgrace, a truth from another prespective, leaving you still, concious of whats going around but unable to react. i can detect the hatred in the room but others whodo not feel the way that i do take no notice. they cannot feel; predict the pain which is prepairing to strike the ones they hate.
it may not be intentional but even when repeated over and over again, itslike the words are being reflected off a mirror. like you're talking to yourself.
sometimes hatred fills my mind, i can feel it rush through my veins.. but i must control it. its these acrtions that lead to devestating concequences.
the truth is:
i hate the way you talk about yourself
i hate the way you beleive in everything yous ay and nothing said by anyone else
i hate the way that you beleive that death can be deserved and yet when this is said by others you cannot help but critisize tyheir "inhumane" thoughts.
i hate the way talk aboutlife as if it has no meaning, as if it should be controlled and should be taken away but then say that you hate those who do exactly that.
and finally, i hate the way you critisize,
turn a blind eye,
leave nothing but surprise
do not regeret the meanest lie
turn your back on those in pain
physically and mentally, bot the same
show a look forever sly
and yet expect not to be despised.
YOU ARE READING
Murders' Relatives
PoetryEvery one has different thoughts, different minds, but sometimes we must accept that there is only one way to deal with things and thats to live with it! These are a collection of poems written to show that whether we choose to or not there are thin...
