Detestation Poem by John Richey

Gusts of winds blasting through the soul,
Fiery determination being plunged into the ocean depth…
Hope is a loose-end that shreds easily.
Control ruptures and becomes chaos when the nerve is pinched.
Loathing myself for what I am, never to be accepted.
Untrustworthy and riddled with lies…
Exiling myself from those who judge harshly..
Shaking uncontrollably from lack of discipline,
Never content with myself, ever changing to fit society.
Hating myself all the more, while realizing I don’t understand myself.
Perfection is improbable, being without flaws is favorable.
Full of flaws makes me an abomination.
A monster I am, who dislikes himself more than any other.