Poem -

the oxymoron of emotion

I felt a fire in me when he came near.Β 

I loathed him so much, I was turning cold.Β 

I never wished for someone's suffering,Β 

Β  not until I met him.Β 

I could feel my heart blacken,Β 

Β  at the mention of his name.Β 

He'll enrage me, but never face my wrath.Β 

For if I gave into my disgust,

Β  I'd turn and hate myself.Β 

As much as I wish him the worst,Β 

Β  I'd never be the one to deliver the pain.Β 

Then my despise if him would turn to me.Β 

My wishing may be wrong,

Β  but not if they don't come true.Β 

I hate him, all because I loved him

Β  and for that, I hate myself too.Β 

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