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Rated: 18+ · Poetry · Gothic · #1358652
The prue definition of Hate
Can’t you tell the difference between a spat and my hate?
Won’t you just see that this is our, better yet my fate
This is not a joke; this is not me just acting out
I don’t love you, I can’t stand you isn’t that what hate is about

You did this to me you’re the reason I can’t sleep
You’re the reason when the lights are out I weep
When I look in my eyes I see you smiling back
I slowly begin to feel my mind begin to crack

The hate is spreading I feel more and more dead
Can’t you see the amount of tears I have bled?
I can see farther than anything you will ever see
The hate will end when we are dead and I will be free

You made this nightmare for me now I want a dream
Now look what you have done my tears have made a stream
My only regret is that I will never see my friends again
I just ask that my death not be in vain

And to my friends who have kept me alive
All I ask is that you survive
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