Hate as black as a crow's feathers fills my sorrowful heart,
for He reminded me of Her again.
She makes my blood boil with furry.
I hate this feeling as much as I hate Her,
for once again, it makes me unhappy.
I sit and cry tears of pain and sorrow,
then I'm filled with meaness.
I hurt everyone around me,
I hate myself , once again.
I wish I didn't have these thoughts,
thoughts of wanting to kill and hurt.
She makes me feel this way, but She doesn't know.
She dramatizes that She loves me,
but I know what She really feels about me.
For She is an awful person, of which my father loves.
The "He" in this poem is my little brother, and the "She" is my step-mother, i can't stand her.. if you can't tell. :) |
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