Hate

The way your voice
makes me want to scream loud enough to burst my own eardrums -
Just so I can't hear it, and how you always

look down on me from your pedestal of stolen victories.

The way just pure humiliation is never enough

(for you- it was plenty for me.)
And how somehow, it's always my fault.

I loathe the way you worm inside of me, and force me
to become something I never wanted to be.
I hate the way I can sometimes look into your eyes and see myself,
and I detest how much that scares me.

The way you have more layers than I can see past,
and just when I thought I'd scraped it all away,

there's ten more waiting, untouched.

I hate the way you always come out on top -

(always)

I loathe the way you paint on your mask.
So no one could ever understand.

I hate the way you isolate me.

And I hate myself for caring.