Hateing myself.

I hate myself.

I don't know why you hate me,
but maybe I do.
But now it doesn't matter,
because I hate me more,
than I hate you.

I've been loved my whole life,
buts its never enough.
I feel like an old candle,
thats been thoroughly snuffed.

I fine myself weak,
and full of despair.
I beat myself daily,
and without a care.

I don't let it show,
on the outside at least.
But inside I hide sorrow,
as big as a beast.

I think of death,
on a daily basis.
But I know people care,
with there knowing faces.

I'm not alone,
not all the time.
But sometimes I wonder,
If I'm worth even a dime.

I cry often these days,
more than I care.
But I won't tell you that,
or I might start to swear.

I won't cut myself,
I'm to much of a coward.
But that doesn't mean,
I don't hurt myself on the hour.

The End

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