The Fayth

A living archive in motion

The frame changes with the day. The center keeps your record intact.

2002 / Writing

THIS IS A HATE POEM,

one that will wound,
hopefully tears will spring!
I won’t be the only one crying in a shut off room.

Just so you know, it's official; I hate you.

I hate your fucking guts.
Reducing me to a stupid little girl tugging at your sleeve-
you keep dusting me off,
avoiding my calls and I’m going:
How did I become the loser in this?

ah, I’ve been the ultimate fool…cause I’ve been the one looking
To learn the ultimate lesson, which is this:
no matter what
having a dick or not
you're still going to be a fucking cock

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