Pure Hate

She cursed my blood
and tainted it black.

Her name paints me red,
inflated my head big,
and burns my skin
like coal.

Through all that I've done,
through all I have put up with,
I am treated as trash
and washed away like the sea.

I'm motivated to take a swing
and thrust a fist in her gut,
but I am not a monster,
and never will be like her.

My tongue is tied when my eyes
bear witness to her presence.
I have no words to speak.
And even if I did,
the logical sense of my syllables
would be coherently silent.

My memories are corrupt
thanks to what she has done.

I'll never forgive her for
the sins she has written over me
with black Sharpe.

Her image will always
be there,
permanent as a black ink
tattoo,
and lingering as an ancient
people's curse.