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Wrong Done

from the early notebook

I hate you more than anything —
I know it’s wrong, but oh! it stings.
If I were given such a chance,
I’d kill you without a second glance.

It’s welling up inside me;
it’s trying hard to blind me.

But I won’t give hate its evil way;
I’ll remain composed for another day —

to one day bring you such sweet justice,
then such a feeling, once I’ve settled this.

shadowshining · poems by ethank