I got a burning passion.
A burning passion that once fueled of wanting to help others and to my best,
But now.
Now this burning passion is fueling of hate!
I hate all that stands.
Especially myself.
There isn't nothing more I hate than myself!
Death is one think I look up to right now.
I find it hard to find a reason to not have hate fueling through my body. I find it hard to not fantasize about suicide and murder.
Hate is a burning passion I wish I never got.
This is me at the moment.
I got nothing and no one to help calm me down and make me feel that everything will be alright.
I despise myself.
I got a flame burning wanting hurt and kill the guy who took you from me.
I have for a while.
I am doing my best to put it out.
I no longer wish him death, But I still wish to see him cry and scream from pain. Worse than the pain I felt when I broke my hand.
Sorry I can't control what the flame uses as fuel.
Sorry I wasn't good enough.
I never was.
YOU ARE READING
Read If You Want To
PoesíaHere I write poems but I may make a new book as a continuation to this one but I don't know
