If you listen to just my words,
You are not going to like what you hear.
Loathing, destruction, death, and some say, even evil.
But if you put your head against my beating heart,
You'll forget the four letter hate, and maybe, just maybe, you'll hear what's really there.
Pain. Fear. Hurt. And some say, even love.
I cannot accept what I'll never understand in myself.
I can take your abuse, your selfishness, your prideful speech.
Your disrespect for me emanates and yet I thank you for it and extend my hand.
I can justify it, forgive you, take the high road, knowing you care nothing about me.
My own wraps around me, tendrils of soft rope that begin as a caress and end as a plea for silence.
I hate you because I let you off easy and I get nothing from you in return.
I hate myself because it was me who gave you an innocent verdict.
And when it's all said and done, I'm alone on a Thursday morning,
With nothing but a cold hard floor and a wall made of stones I built while no one was watching.
Maybe you should just listen to my words.
Maybe I should too.