The Fruit of Pain

When hate is all you've been given, when hate is all you've known to survive on, when hate is all you've been taught, then hate is what you've become.  And I'm not just talking about the outward disdain of others, that's too easy and child's play.  I'm talking about deep seated resentment that gets born from secrets exposed.  I'm talking about the need for spite that comes from failed loyalty.  I'm talking about time and time again, people who claim to have your back but were only riding on your side for what they could get until the getting was over.  Fake lovers, torn and disrupted, bleeding from an infraction that never healed. Putting my heart on the line to say "yes you", but you said "no" and walked away.  Worse is the love that gets reeled in slowly because they didn't want to work through a challenge.  The love that gets filtered.  The love that gets hidden, the love that gets diluted or inflated.  All of these have graced the table that I was meant to feast at.  Bitter meals for years have turned my blood into poison and I no longer remember what a rose smells like.  I see one and all I do is expect it's death.
I especially enjoy when my hate gets turned towards someone so I can play my fantasies of death with them. Pouncing on them in the middle of the night, ripping their chest cavity open to feel their still beating heart or sometimes a sweeter feeling is to just squeeze their neck and watch their fight dwindle until nothing moves.  That drain from them is like a filling to me as I've finally got someone to feel what I feel every time she lied.  Every time she said she loved me when she didn't, every time she said he was with a friend when she was not, everytime she said she was at work but she was out with someone else.  A small taste of that betrayal I am able to return and it feels so good that sharing this pain takes away my loneliness...company for a few moments, stolen though it may be.
Why was it always taken away, why was it never given to me freely the way I was ready to give it to them.  Every time, taken away like you take toy from a child for breaking a vase. Never once did she stand in the hurricane and call my name.  Never once did she let the Carnival sail away and wait for me.  Never once did she fight even after receiving the first blow.  I was never worth their salt even when I poured my blood from my own neck on their feet and washed their heels with it. I drowned over and over again seeking the love to match what I had to give and not once did she think I was worth a cold night. Death to them all.