I Hate Me And...

By Samantha Rhode

A poetry of hate.

I hate me and you know what I was onto the thought of suicide last night
But you didn't know 'cause you simply don't care and had sleep tight.

I hate me and because of that I ought to be fine in front of you to let you perceive that I'm doing okay even I'm really not.
So it's always on every stark and deafening night that I feel my soul goes rot.

I hate me and it has to be so hard to even get up in a depressive version of morning where the sun is really on it's peak that I was sorta drunk that hangover kicks in.
Very irritable! I was very hungry and alas! There's no food to find or even money to get spent in buying. Literally poor.

I hate me and from that I felt so wasted that I didn't care about me than I used to before.
To be honest, leave it as a metaphor of a sinking ship, all was going down.

I hate me and it was really worst to feel when you know you have people around but it feels null.
A reason maybe to hit myself against the wall to topple the real pain my soul was screaming.

I hate me and it's like a melancholic scene where things you once believe that could heave you from depth suddenly gives up on you.
That's a very misfortune! Even me gives up on me.

I hate me and maybe melodramatic, I admit, drawbacks of depression, your mind are just full of skepticism and things went black out.
And even hoping for that one enlightenment might get stuck on a traffic or never make it through.

I hate me and time is really tricky, it'll made you everything was in control and then eventually you're shattered that everything is fragile and all was just part of time's play.
By the provenance, which my turn to exist, it was all plain and full of beacon for the good then as I begin to get involve and understand that's the time all seems against me

I hate me and I hate math and the way I perform around the hollow people . I'm growing terrified to all the things inevitable that I need to get accepted and fit in to cope to their ugly norms
The struggle is real, from that I'm lost and to this time still don't know who I'm really is.

I hate me and this is agonizing because I was about to realized that I would never stand on fame, be a beauty nor intelligence icon.
I will only be this dull, bland, average and conventional human.

I hate me and I think no one loves me the way they should be.
They won't love me because I never allow because if they know how truly scared I am they'll get into me and sort me as weak.

I hate me and I need to overthink things over things because if I'm not I'm gonna go crazy if I don't, even I know there's a little chance for it to be beneficial for my system.
Anxiety is killing me, double kill when it compromise with that evil depression.

I hate me and it feels a loud drum bass pounding my heart because of omnipotent mixture of paranoia emotions.
The body I was wearing was drowning and one part needs to be saved and the other want to let it be.

I hate me and I'm coming through to the epiphany that I should not.
I have had only one life that'll last soon but sometimes I just need it to be soon immediately

I hate me and the person in me suffer from my deed.
Sweet life would never be true if one's heart is thoroughly being on the verge of dread and darkness. Unluckily, I'm still a victim.

I hate me and that make me as a crumpled paper, even ironing to get firm, would remain flawed and undesirable.
So I've got this high walls keeping me off from life to hid how ugly is me and I know will make me regret soon for not showing and making them feel who I really was.

I hate me and I don't even know why I feel this poignant eerie at times
I'm not that insane if you think that I implore this thing to get attention from y'all, I'm sane to also deplore this antsy part of me just like you.

I hate me and I will hate me with all the possible reasons to hate me.
Paradox would be the greatest comparison when dealing how to define life.

I hate me and I love me.
I hate me and I love me
I hate me and I love me
I hate me and I love me

I hate me and if that would ceased I wish please and not to because maybe all the occurrence of everything was pinned on a plan everyone involved would not know but the one WHO creates it.
Sometimes I get mad at that Who, but that was time I hate me so sorry, my whole heart would never enough. I thought all I have is hate.