Hatred

Sometimes I hate you so much

that it hurts to breathe.

-

Sometimes I want to pick, pull, or rip you apart,

just to get your outsides to match your insides;

to show you how much of a fuck-up you are.

-

Other times, the hate makes me hollow,

and I see no point in proving you wrong.

Why get out of bed when you will just

shove me down again?

-

Why try at all when I will just make the

same mistakes over and over again?

-

The pain you inflict is brutal.

I still have the scars from where you cut,

and threatened to cut deeper still

If I didn’t give you a reason not to.

-

I still have the same emptiness that you carved out

despite every piece that I brought back to fill it.

-

You laughed when those pieces fell through

my hands like grains of sand,

and you sneered when those pieces refused

to fly away in the storm you wrought.

-

So where does this leave us, you and I?

-

Do I continue to try and cut you off,

choke you with chemicals and atoms?

Or will I let you darken my horizons,

and snuff out the light from my eyes?

-

I think the only solution here,

Is to accept me, myself, and I,

and recognize you as I.

-

To see without the smoke of denial

the monster we’ve been suffocating.

-

It’s time to let her loose.

___

This is the 12th poem in RE: SURGENCE, a poetry collection by Amanda Starks that shares what it's like to have and fight against mental illness in a free-form, lyrical prose.

Be aware that topics and themes may include suicide, self-harm, and isolation.

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