The Hate Affair

Somewhere in my windpipe are words that threaten to come out in a scream,
I mutter them in my head, constantly.
"I hate me. I hate me. I hate me."
 I hate the way I talk, I act,
 I think and breathe. I hate me.
 Who do I think I am? I hate me.
 How am I this worthless? I hate me.
 How dare I think I know better? I hate me.
 How dare I believe, I deserve better? I hate me.
 How am I this conceited? I hate me.
 How can I feel sorry for myself? I hate me.
 How come I always forgive me? I hate me.
 How can I live with myself? I hate me.
 How do I get rid of me? I hate me.
 How come I don't get rid of me? I hate me.
 Does no one else see? I hate me.
 I hate me. I hate every living cell in me.
 I pretend I am hard on me. But I am just a hypocrite,
 And I hate me.
 Will someone please shoot me? I hate me.
 Will no one shoot me? I hate me.
 Is this what I deserve then? Live, to hate me?
 Is there no way out of this affair? I hate me.
 You know...perhaps, if you were to slit my throat,
 I could try one last time, to love me again.