Wrath

I am not depressed, I swear. This is just something for a contest with the theme of "with the devil on your back".

I hate you.

That's right.

You.

You sadistic psycopath
With your scars and bruises,
Worn proudly like tattoos
Permanently engraved
By your own hand.

I loathe you.

You stupid b***h
With your torn clothing and charcoal mascara
Dripping down your cheeks
And into your crooked,
Twisted smile.

I despise you.

You lonely freak
With no one who cares,
Except the one
That clings to your back
With a fiery grip that burns like lava,
But soothes like drugs.

I detest you.

You pitiful soul,
Staring into the mirror
At the demon on your shoulder,
The one you dare to call 
Friend.

I abhor you.

You lowly coward,
Giving into the devil's commands
Whispered into your ear,
Tracing your heart 
With a cold blade
Which cannot resist the temptation 
Of plunging into your skin
To end it all.

I hate myself.

Author's Note

This is not in any way how I feel about myself. It's simply a poem from the point of view of a fictional suicidal girl, not me. Please keep this in mind before commenting about how you can "help me".