I hate you, I hate you, I hate you,

but why do I hate you,

why do I hate to see your face,

why am I in denial about your phony smile,

I think I hate you because I hate myself and love has to come from within but then again within only ascends from someone who believes they can achieve,

and the way I feel right now pain is a virtue,

I’d rather see black clouds on a sunny day.

I’d rather see dead petals on a bouquet of flowers if I have to feel this way,

everyone should because I’ve had seven years of bad luck and I’m not even superstitious,

I hate you because subconsciously we’re so much alike,

and my appetite grows stronger by the minute less and less timid about what you think about me but instead you’re more worried about what I think about you because you see the same things I do, you feel what I feel and when I look into a broken mirror I see pain and anguish through the eyes of a scared man afraid of his next move not even caring about what he can lose, sometimes I pass by the mirror and I don’t even cast a reflection because my exterior is so tarnished and stained with guilt and deception It’s hard for me to even give myself a perception, so from here on after I close the pages on the last chapter never to be reopened for the mirror is forever broken like hearts severed in half by a rusty guillotine. The day will come when I look into the mirror and actually see the truth instead of a lie that the person before me is actually me.

“A man can only receive what he sees himself receiving”

Jawaad can be reached at [email protected]