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"Life is a game, boy. Life is a game that one plays
according to the rules." -J. D. Salinger
(The Catcher in the Rye, spoken by Mr. Spencer)
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She loathes me, absolutely,
And without remorse.
She detests me. In a most
Awful way, of course.
She does not hate me all at once.
She lets it boil and fume,
Until the stench and venom
From her hatred fills the room.
She takes her precious time,
And ponders every hate she feels.
An ability for which she has
Abundant talent, dreadful skills.
Just mention me and watch her tense,
Her fury seething, her wrath immense.
Her eyes like thin, sharpened shards of slate.
Black as death and full of hate.
Wild as a troubled wind,
Cutting down what lies within
Her grasp, with talons sharp as night,
She slashes everything in sight.
She loathes me with a perfect hate.
A bitter herb she cannot negate.
And waits, with the hope my blood shall spill,
And she will finally have her kill.
Copyright © 2010 Richard D. Remler
Bit of a RePost
A clearsighted reflection of a brutally honest insight. Very strong piece!