The cause of my initial self-loathing was
the remnants of your visitations.
Your unexpected arrivals stood for
expected pessimistic emotions.
Instinctively I would try to
peel you off like a sticker and hope
you will be gone.
But when you were gone,
what you left behind
always seemed to anger me more.
The scars you left on me.
The shame I have to wear on my face.
I feel like everyone knows.
On a search I will go for restoration of self.
Despite how ineffective they are, I will
make sure you will be gone
With time I grow and learn your remains are
a part of me that I will always hate.
But with that hate I may assume the
form of love even when I don’t feel
so deep down. I will lie to myself
And remodel my perspective. The bad I
know of you will be gone
