I hate you.

I never wanna see your clever face again,

I loathe you,

I wanna bathe in your words, letting the venom seep in my mere bones.

I want your scent to linger in my brain, and be the last thing I smell.

I desire your blood smeared over my hands, the strange surge of satisfaction.

I’m the one who got to kill you.

But I loathe you, and hate with a passion,

therefore I have no clue why I do this.