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Nov 6, 2011

Insurmountable Hate

Part I

Here it stands - a pristine, blank mirror
Reflecting back tortured eyes and a blackened soul,
As if you with your deranged hair and sadistic tendencies
Sacrificed a night of sleep
To hold up a piece of paper with my name on it
And watch it blacken with disintegration
And curl with degeneration
In a fire with fierce flames that spit reverently
Admiring the food you are dangling in its arms.

Part II

Could it be a knife your words brandish?
Because the sharp nicks that painstakingly cut my willpower
Have left nothing but shredded ribbons of flesh behind
I am bleeding – there is nothing in me but blood –
Don’t you see what you have done?
These shocking, piercing, excruciating needles
You have dislodged in my resolve?

Part III

My blood has thickened into petrol
Bubbling gelatinously in its confined presence in my heart,
Giving way to fissures of gas that escape like refugees
From a country tormented by dictatorial damnation.
The heat with which it froths and churns;
As if it is waiting to catch fire, biding it’s time
Until the day it explodes into a crazed entity
Of fire, anger, hatred, torment and abhorrence
That consumes me till the point my skin rips at the seams.
And then you would be happy.
Then you would be satisfied.
Then you would die a pleased woman.

Part IV

It was like sobbing relentlessly on the shoulder of the two-faced devil,
Telling him the deepest, most precious sentiments of your heart
And finding comfort in his counterfeit promises.
But you, with your blood red horns and your fiery trident,
A grin dripping brutally with contentment and amusement
Gripped my trust by the hair, tugging at its sensitive roots,
Threw it at hungry cannibals, to watch them satiate their appetite.
Yes, you laughed as they sank their jagged teeth into it,
You laughed as they ripped the skin off its poor flesh.

Part V

Poor, pristine mirror. Pity that your innocent face
Should have been the victim of my insurmountable anger,
Because in you I have seen my face,
In you I have seen the depths of that black soul,
In the depths of that black soul, a woman burning paper,
In the depths of those flames, the consuming hatred,
In the depths of the hatred, a breach of trust.
And in the depths of all that,
The shocking pinks and blues of pain so irreparable
Nothing can heal it ever again.


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