Stop Being Hateful

Here it comes. The avalanche of hate. You are directing at me because I see you. I see past the screaming, the hitting, the hurting. Inside is the little boy who got thrown away. Thrown to the wolves by his self-absorbed, selfish parents. You wear your violence as a shroud, a coat of armor to dissuade me. By pushing me away, you can validate that you are despicable, validating what your parents showed you about yourself. If they thought you were worthless, then how dare I think otherwise? The more I try to love you, the harder you push Thinking you are not worthy of love. Your go-to place is hate, violence, anger, rage. You have managed to fool most of the others. I know you though; I have seen past this terribleness. This facade you use to protect yourself from ever feeling this kind of hurt again. You can rant and rage, you can pretend you hate me. You can throw attitude toward me every ways to Sunday. Still I come, even as you goosestep and act Hitler-like Because you are worth it. So stop being mean and hateful. I am not buying it anyway.