When you hated everyone,
Those blindingly cloudless afternoon sky,
The piled up week's worth of laudry,
The dishes left in the sink for the whole day,
Curtains heavy in dust,
Those neighborhood dogs barking,
Those neighborhood kids playing in youthful bickering,
Your dog's urine and excrement in the corner of the house,
Those birds singing on your window.
That garden in vivid colors looking like muddy water on your front yard.
The way you looked outside beyond the window railings ment for burglars, ignoring how it looked like prison bars.
Those double lock doors.
That peaceful silence within the room.
You hated everything.
Until night comes and that peaceful silence broke,
Those accursed repressed noises started eating you again from the inside.
Deafening you in the process.
And when those jarring discordant sounds came to you,
Only then you'll find peace.
Proceeding to exist to be non-existent for the next day.
And when you do hated everything in a vexatious unreasonable way.
Then you probably hated yourself the most.