The Taste of Hate (Poem)

No matter the weather, it always feels like rain on my skin. But somehow, I love the way the sky mirrors my mood. Melancholic with a subtle combination of disdain and quiet peace. I don’t want any eyes on me, I don’t want another person close enough for me to hear them breathe. Those voices again, their silent but sneering judgments, being ignorant must cause euphoria and everyone is addicted. I’m not you, and you hate it, I’m not them, no matter the manipulation and lies you make it.

At a certain point, all the monsters faces blend into one sickening beast taunting my disgust. I feel the static injection into my veins, giving power to the balled up fists that I’ve made. White knuckled, like a volcano splitting my skin from the rage. Blood spilling through the cracks like lava under the worlds suffocating weight.

It’s beautiful you say? My arms shaking at my sides with sweat pouring over my face. Clouds filling the sky and reflecting the grays somber shade. Wind chilling the cuts and scrapes I’ve made, sending waves of stinging pain. I watch it bleed out and pull a cigarette from it’s case, burning my tongue with that chard smoky taste. The day fades, I wash my shaking hand to clear the mess away. Blood breeches the surface once more and i lick the twisted sensation caused by hate. Beauty lies in strength, beauty hides in pain, at least today wasn’t a horrible waste..❄️

———-

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