Wrath and Hurt

(Written at age 14.)

I stand distraught, my body writhing
’twixt wrath and hurt.
I watch a serpent swell up inside me
Its forked tongue bearing deadly venom –
A fatal concoction of anger, hurt, fear, jealousy – and hatred.
Hatred? For whom?
The person who left me for more skin-deep beauty,
More superficial charm? No.
I still love him with all I have. I can’t help that.
It is a habit now – loving him.
Then whom?
That bundle of beautifully sculptured skin and bones,
Who with her attractive form
Managed to take Him away from me?
Which has no life to live, just beauty to show,
And charm to ooze? No.
I could not hate something so lifeless, vain,
And stone.
Ah, it is but life! Yes, I hate life.
Why? Do not ask me, for I do not know.
And I do not wish to know.