Loathsome Being of Ignorance

Never will there be a chance to reconcile the past. You have chosen your path one of dark hate consumed by an even greater force of disdain. Never can we find a medium, a peace in which we can coexist. Our ending was forged long ago and since you have grown worse more wretched. You are the cyanide, bitter and unpleasant as always, unwanted. You are poisonous in every way. Your voice is as though nails feel hard upon the surface of a black chalk board, an identical color as the abyss in which the color of happiness for you should be. Piercing the ears of the one who feels least for you, the cause of your voice in my direction. Never does time pass quickly enough, ticking by ever so slowly. The clock hands dragging their feet as the second pass by them. Oblivious, you are, to how unwanted you have become. Or were you ever wanted, when the beginning began? You strike quickly, spewing empty words of momentary fury. Scissors, wearing thin the last remaining strands of connection, pressing heavily, peeling back the false façade to uncover truth. You were never meant to be what you are. You do not deserve what you have, nor do you belong in the company you so dishonor. You are a spectacle to behold, and ignorant savage befuddled by the simplest of tasks which you are too incompetent to complete or understand.