What was the worst that could happen when you made the mistake once again? When you dared to believe once again?
No, it isn't just the pain and disappointment anymore.
This time it isn't fleeting. It is set in stone as I become you. Yes, your mission was well accomplished - I became you.
The very You whose passionate odes of hatred and loathe for every inhabitant of the world, especially of the opposite sex and the incessant pangs of doubt and disbelief for all and sundry, got seamlessly replicated and may be transferred.
It would still feel worthwhile if there was a transfer and it wasn't just enhancement of the dark world through me.
I hate You for becoming You.
All that you felt until you met me and all that I could never feel inspite of the tougher terrain life had walked me through, I feel now.
The inseparable need for hatred, need for anger, need for restlessness to keep moving ahead, it makes me you.
The hopelessness of being unlovable, the hopelessness of hope itself, the hopelessness of everything and everyone, hence requiring a defiant me to face each morning, makes me just you.
I know now why you threw stuffs, I know now why you doubted everyone, I know now why you felt the need to give it back every single time.
I know now why you were you and yet I was never the one who made you such. All I could and ever would have for you was love. But there is none left anymore - not for you, not for the world, not for another human on earth. It dried up, went dead. Yes, you were the winner.
I never wanted to be you. Never believed I could be you. Naive I was yet again. You did master the art of getting your way. Hence, here I am - the way you liked, the way you wished.
I will be the Bitch I wasn't, to ward away the herd you belong to.
Yes I cared, and you didn't. Now we are both even, as neither of us do.
I won't wish you well, even if I burn in hell, because I know I will have you for company there.
No, it isn't just the pain and disappointment anymore.
This time it isn't fleeting. It is set in stone as I become you. Yes, your mission was well accomplished - I became you.
The very You whose passionate odes of hatred and loathe for every inhabitant of the world, especially of the opposite sex and the incessant pangs of doubt and disbelief for all and sundry, got seamlessly replicated and may be transferred.
It would still feel worthwhile if there was a transfer and it wasn't just enhancement of the dark world through me.
I hate You for becoming You.
All that you felt until you met me and all that I could never feel inspite of the tougher terrain life had walked me through, I feel now.
The inseparable need for hatred, need for anger, need for restlessness to keep moving ahead, it makes me you.
The hopelessness of being unlovable, the hopelessness of hope itself, the hopelessness of everything and everyone, hence requiring a defiant me to face each morning, makes me just you.
I know now why you threw stuffs, I know now why you doubted everyone, I know now why you felt the need to give it back every single time.
I know now why you were you and yet I was never the one who made you such. All I could and ever would have for you was love. But there is none left anymore - not for you, not for the world, not for another human on earth. It dried up, went dead. Yes, you were the winner.
I never wanted to be you. Never believed I could be you. Naive I was yet again. You did master the art of getting your way. Hence, here I am - the way you liked, the way you wished.
I will be the Bitch I wasn't, to ward away the herd you belong to.
Yes I cared, and you didn't. Now we are both even, as neither of us do.
I won't wish you well, even if I burn in hell, because I know I will have you for company there.
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