Hate is not a pretty thing.
You can't be proud of it.
Or at least you shouldn't be.
Seems to be my prized fucking possession.
When do I get to relax?
Never.
The ex-wives club will always be there.
Always behind one thing or another.
Waiting to kick me in the teeth once again.
Fall flat on my ass.
Looking stupid.
Looking jealous...but I'm not.
I'm filled with rage.
Rage I can't, or would love not to have to control.
Some days I'd rather not be functional.
Some days I want to destroy.
Some days I want to sleep.
Some days I just try to be happy.
Some days I forget.
Always I'm helpless.
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