I hate the way
you speak to me
with your artificial words
and hollow promises.

I hate the way
you tell me how reality
and fantasy are two different things
when you always switch between the two.

I hate the way
you look down on me
when I always look up to you
and tell me that I�m weak.

I hate the way
you pretend I�m not there
when I need you most
in my helpless condition.

But I hate you most
when you tell me you love me
without sounding like you mean it
and forget about me the next day.

But I hate myself most
for not bringing myself to
say the simplest words inside my shattered heart.

�I hate you.�