I’ve always wondered
Why I hate myself.
Has my self-loathing
Always been part of me?
Is it a recent development?
A pollution of pristine waters
By the carelessness of people
Putting their whims above my needs?
The voices in my head,
Where did they come from?
Who was in charge
Of designing my demons?
Whoever it was, they knew
Exactly what to do to destroy me,
To make my self-hatred
A core principle.
Everything I do or am
Becomes something hated
No matter how valid it is
If I do it, it must be wrong.
I hate myself for hating
How other people treat me,
For screaming at my friends
When they find issue with my personality.
When I shoot for the stars, they tell me
My hoped-for destination is a fraud.
They exaggerate the frailty of my wings
To convince me to stay on the ground.
Every opinion I have
Is the punchline of a joke
Every mistake I make
Is based in devilish intent.
If you hate enough
Of the things I say and do
Doesn't that mean
You hate me?
I know now
Why I hate myself.
How can I learn
To love myself
If no one else is willing to?
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