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The problem with yourself is that you
hated everybody, the problem with you
is that you hated none
but yourself
the problem with you is that
you hate as much as you breathe;
a hatred passed down from generations of
hurt, hated, scarred, wounded beings
a hatred that fills almost every inch,
every fiber of your being
a hatred that left behind
an endless, continuous feeling of
drowning
breathe, breathe
you have no choice, it's
always like that isn't it
eyes open wide as you took
the inevitable plunge into
repressed, subdued
madness.