I don’t want to be your hater, still, you haven’t given me enough reasons to be your love either. As you walk past, my energy never lasts it finds its end very fast. Using me as your toy, leaving me when I refuse to play my role, judging me each minute with your hateful eyes, expecting I will agree with your ugly words toward me. You tie my arms behind my back when you smell my success. You cut my wings when I could learn how to fly. My happiness is just an anchor for you, an anchor that needs to sink to the bottom without the privilege to ever see the light again. You hate me the most, still you hold my hand like we are sewn together. And now I’m ready to cut my own skin to get rid of you.