.:Dreams and Swords:.

Hatred, A Bitter Pill

Have you ever written something that you absolutely hate?

I haven't until today. My growing loathing feelings towards this piece is approaching something catastrophic. If I haven't written this piece of meandering drivel electronically, I would have set it on fire and watched with glee as it burned. Yes, it really is that bad.

Worse, I entered the piece of shit into a contest and can't get rid of it until it's reviewed. I'm almost willing to delete it anyway, but I submitted my name to contest, signing up for the full five weeks. Backing out because I despise what I've written makes me feel like I've broken a promise and turned coward. So, like a good little soldier, I going to stick out until the bitter end.

The reviews I've been getting of this eyesore of my existence don't having me feeling any better about it either. I haven't felt so inept, inexperience, and worthless in a long time. Its almost like living with my father again. What's worse is the underlining sense of pity there seemed to be. Straight, harsh criticism I can handle. Pity just makes me see red.

Weirdly enough vindication seems to be the thing I'm looking for most. After all is said and done, I'm going to tear the festering thing to shreds and make something better. I'm going to make something I can show off and feel proud. I going to create the poem like it was suppose to be made.

Until then I'm going to curse the blinding disgrace of a poem with everything I have.