By the pricking of my thumbs
Something wicked this way comes.
i hate how i eat compulsively.
i hate how my pimples cant seem to disappear.
i hate how i cant seem to concentrate.
i hate how i can be such a brat to my father.
i hate how i shout when all i want to do is love.
i hate how i feel so tired, worn, drained.
i hate how my words come out all wrong.
i hate how i conform, pretend, when all i want is to be myself.
i hate how i dislike the person i am.
i hate how i gravitate towards selfcentredness, defensiveness, discontentment.
i hate how i feel like crawling in a dark hole, shut my eyes and hide.
i hate how i hate, when really i should just be happy.




