I am shadow, I am rain,
I am of existence bane.
I am angry, I am kind,
No light escapes my sieve of mind.
Of vengeance plenty, of feelings few,
I lack sensation when I think of anyone, or you.
Of poisoned mind, of diluted passion,
Suppressed, or incapable, or the two?
Rivers of hatred flow, in torrents,
Feeding a white-hot sea which engulfs it all.
Do I hate you, or do you hate me?
Both, I think, but self-hate I have too, in spades.
I hate everything there is to hate,
Body, mind, soul, and fate.
Hate...
Rage, sadness, despair,
I see only in red, blue, and black.
Many have suggested I change my tack,
Much have I tried, but I cannot go back.
What mutant mind have I received,
Which permits me but to hate, and grieve?
Freak...
I would give anything to change it all,
But I fear it is too late to hear the call.
I find myself guided, not dragged,
Down to the dark, cavernous abyss.
Bliss...
There, without the material rind,
Will there be something to ease my mind?
If not, where am I meant to find this joy?
In friendship?
Sex?
Passion?
Love?
To love another, one must first love oneself,
Be happy in one's own right, else there is no love to share.
This must be the origin of my personal Hell,
But does anyone, do I, even care?
It does not matter in the least,
For I will never be content.
I hate all there is to hate,
Body, mind, soul, and fate.
All four are, I believe, beyond repair,
Impossible to renovate in such a state.
Indeed, I cannot change my tack,
I see only in red, blue, and black.