Untitled poem

I love to love you.
Then strain to not hate you.

You are so pleasant when you get your way.
Then you become vicious when you don’t.

I am usually so calm, laid back
Why is my face contorted in fury now?

You can be so affectionate.
But your dark side is petty, cold.

I can not be around someone who brings out my dark side.

I suspect your dark side is the real you.

Good-bye.

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Posted in art

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