Thursday, September 2, 2010

Hate is a Lonely Number

I used to look up to you like a bright future. I used to think you looked out for me too. Now I know you are looking for no one but yourself. I can’t help but to think in my pain you relish happiness and in my achievements you wager my failure. I can only think it comes from a place of bitterness that you demise happiness in those around you. Maybe it is a deadly sin called envy that you succumb to so easily. Don’t envy me. I have nothing to envy. Why do you find things so deliberate to crumble me to my knees? But I have allowed you in to see my weakness, perfection. Why must you take the ounces of sunshine I have left in my hourglass of life? My fault yes, because I allowed you to glimpse my past. You think your actions are invisible but I see them, they are deliberate and calculated. You are diabolical.


Is this wrath a remnant of a bitter past, one that fills your heart not allowing goodness to poke holes and eventually break free from the chains you have placed upon it? That I cannot say, but your anger towards me only empowers me, for it takes much more of the soul’s energy to hate than to allow one to prosper. I feel sorry for you, as this - is all you attain to be. I feel sorry for you that what you reap will inevitably be what you sow and what you sow you will reap full circle.

A slight giggle escapes my lips when I think about how you must feel powerful to step on me, how in control you think you are. I can only think of the time to come when my wings will spread far and wide shading the sun from your path, you will look up only to see a dark sky void of warmth, forbidding the sun from casting over your days. Envy will quickly turn to hate as you see how far above you I will fly.

I pity you really, feel sorry for you really. I cannot imagine a life filled with that much hostility to make those around you so volatile at your sight at your touch at your voice. I gave you the best of me. This is not my future, you are not my future, you have no part in my glorious forthcomings. You are my past, the forgotten, the wasted carnage after a war. I cannot hate you, for hate stands alone and alone is a lonely number, hate consumes too much of my energy, and preservation is the secret to a kind soul.

No comments:

Post a Comment