K.P

Although I miss you day by day,
My hatred for you grows.

I think of you in every way,
But can't convey my woes.

I think of all the things you've done 
And anger burns inside.

I think of all the laughs and fun,
From these truths I cannot hide.

You hurt me so much year after year,
But I still went back for more.

Now I shall now longer shed a tear,
You pathetic little whore.

I hope you die a prolonged death,
to punish you for wickedness.