I hate her. I hate her!
I fucking loathe her! !
Such a disrespectful whore.
An antidepressant
pill popping-whore.
Whose sole motivation is
to seek the approval
of estranged men.
Pathetic narcissist.
Poor Thing!
Maybe that's why she prefers
an opiate LaLa-Landscape
to her I'll-fraudulent reality.
"Wait! Is this that same bitch
who verbally attacks you
every time you try to work out
both of your problems? "
"The same girl who avoids
any conversation about
her role in the whole mess.
The whole time blank-faced,
Day-dreaming about her
next plastic surgery? "
Yes, it's true. She hates her
own reflection. Though,
she takes my breath away.
Master of the blame game.
A seasoned manipulator
trained by the best. Who uses
insecurity to lure men.
Unknowingly laying
the flower beds
Of her inevitable demise.
A demise brought about by
karma. O karma!
My only friend.
Karma, my trained assassin.
Who will rip out her heart,
along with her plastic
torpedo breasts,
right out of her hollow chest.
As empty as her head.
No soul. No love.
Just hate.
I fucking love, loath,
love her.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem