I hate the
way I talk to me,
and the way I don’t dare
I hate the way I feel so insecure
I hate it when you stare.
I hate it to not take up space
and the way you read my mind.
I hate me so much
it makes me sick;
it even makes me rhyme.
I hate it,
That I hate the way I’m never right.
I hate it when I lie.
I hate it when I make me laugh,
even worse when I make me cry.
I hate it when I’m not feeling myself,
But also the fact that I don’t feel.
But mostly I hate the way
the feelings I steal
I hate that I feel so grey
I want to take more space
I hope one day,
it will pay
I hate it, that
I hate me
I just want to be free
(But mostly) I hate the way,
I don’t hate me
Not even close,
not even a little bit,
not even at all.