I almost wish I was illiterate, so I wouldn't have to describe you with words I'd rather use on someone else- I wish these memories would be erased from my mind.

You may say forgiveness is to let go, and hatred is for the poor people whose hearts bleed because they're on their knees, yearning for their own sorry self.

I do not forgive you. Forgiving is a grace that I indebt to those who truly deserve it, and I despise you and the many others who are like-minded.

Your story is barely known to those who've skimmed through it, I know in my soul that it is not touching enough to buy, and spend time with. You are a book that should be burned, and should have never been born.

Buying your story is accepting a deal with devil, because those who are accepting- are ignorant souls who are desperately wanting to be saints. 

I am human. With all 5 senses, I hate hearing your name, your voice, the words you've used.

Although I do not taste anything as repugnant enough than you- I wish to be clean, so I don't have your disgusting odor. I still see my own fear of becoming like you.

I hate the smell of nicotine, because they remind me of your rebellious, immature, addictive to act upon- but dangerous nature.

I do not hope to make any contact with you or anything resembling your disturbing image. I do not hope at all, or I will end up drowning in obsession, over something that I might do.

My hate will linger, but memories torment me in a depressing amount of fear.

I was "just a child", but a child did not deserve to be treated as you- never treating me with good intentions. I knew I did not deserve to hate such a monster, because monsters should never exist, near any true human being.