I don't want to hate you. It makes me sick that I do. You were my best friend when I was whole. When I broke you cast me aside. My chest burns when I see you. An acid builds in my throat when you speak. Why did you make me like you? Why did you make me hate you?
Every time I see you I wish I could hurt you. Either physically or emotionally. I see nothing but red. Just the thought of you makes me sick. You always ruin my day with a single thought. Red and only red.
Welcome
Welcome to Prose.! Publish your work, follow writers, and engage in community challenges.
By entering Prose., you acknowledge that you are 21 years of age or older, and you agree to our Terms of Service and Privacy Policy.
If you used Twitter or Facebook to get into your account and now can't get in, please contact us at support@theprose.com