Why I Hate You

I don’t hate you because

You’re smart

Or pretty

That you make me look short and shitty

That your hair is perfect

And it looks like you aren’t trying

Even when you are

I don’t hate you because

You’re bold and daring

Tearing down everyone’s personal walls

Pushing them into falls

Without parachutes

That you have so many branches

And never have to show anyone your roots

Or how you strike up conversations in bathroom stalls

Hike up society

Infiltrate us with your variety

Of words

How everyone follows you in herds

That you don’t drink

But yet are the loosest person at the party

The lightweight

Yet everything you state

Is hearty

I don’t hate you because

Every sound you breathe

Untangles weeds

Feeds us with a rush of lust

To be just as fabulous

As you

I don’t hate you

I hate the way you make me feel

You steal

The perception of satisfied imperfection

That used to dwell within me

It flees with this infection

Of how beautifully flawed you are

What’s the point of being a constellation

When the only cosmo is a single star?

You make me feel small

Pin my ability to speak against a wall

Because I was in a drought of self-doubt

Before you let these demons out

Released their dripping warriors

Tripping through my skin

Whispering that the person within

Isn’t big enough for the battle

Because the girl who used to exist

Before you rattled her

Used to be you

The one who had no resistance to do

And I hate you

Because there’s no debate you

Stole not a what but who

Because you’re better at being me than me

I might be a spirit

But you’re the only one who’s truly free

And honestly

I never used to repeat “I suck” so frequently

Before you shuck me out of my niche

I’m looking for hopes in horoscopes

When I was the shmuck who didn’t need luck

Who stuck to convictions

Not some feather drifting through the wind

Looking for predictions

The unknown didn’t scare me

But it didn’t prepare me

To meet someone who could tear me

Into half the girl I used to be

Because when you have gourmet coffee

Why the hell would you want tea

As long as you’re here

Why the hell would he want me?

Because I can’t be the big shot

What happens to the potato when it gets too hot

After it’s dropped

Topped

Which doesn’t make sense because I’ve never felt so naked

I can’t take it

Because I say I’m the happiest I’ve been in my life

But I’m not sure if I’m the same person anymore

If these memories are mine

I can’t see a sign

That knows

My familiar roads

Just loads of confusion

Because lately I’m combining words irately

Like "beautiful delusions"

When I don’t even know what that means

Sewing with unnecessary thread just because it looks good to have seams

Using literary devices

To advert from creative crisis

Because those prepoem feelings have returned

I’m making new art

But in my heart I’m concerned

That it’s not adequate

That my best writing is already written

That I’ve already become the sum of all I am

That past work

Is all on which I can stand

And I try to reprimand this

Hiss of desperation

Saying I’m good at creation

I just need more deliberation

To feel the sensation of words trickling down my tongue

But then I look at you

And I feel so young

Like a lost child

Simple and mild

When I used to be potent and wild

Styled by pulsing veins

Stimulated by the earth and rain

Because a different girl has stolen my name

Driving herself insane

With the threat of shame

Trying to be the same

As everyone around

Hoping if she hides herself well enough

She’ll be found

But I’m not wound this way

I’m the girl who isn’t afraid to say

Her secrets in rhyme

Who’s furies aren’t insecurities

But time

Because every moment is so damn significant

Who looks at each day

As her moment to create something magnificent

Because I sent myself to Los Angeles

To make it big

Figure out how to shout more eloquently

Not shrink into my own skin

Thinking that if I was tall or nice or thin

I’d possess the success for happiness

And I confess that the more people say I’m put together

The more I feel like a fucking mess

Each detail in the way I dress

Is a distraction from another flaw

An attempt to draw some attention

Towards some convention

And prevention from being the girl you see

Not saw

 And I know this poem is unorganized and raw

And I want it to be that way

To let the lines be the same as what they say

Because I am damaged

I’m not ok

Because ok is boring

Sanity leaves me snoring

And I meant to be soaring

Roaring

And not a decibel less

But in front of you I’m microscopic

Some question on a science test

I don’t dislike you because you’re cool or blessed

I hate you because of what you do

Because make me

Hate me.