Ooo

leave me,
break me,
tear my heart in 2.

i'll see you in hell,
the hot pits of hell,
they're calling to you.

i've got this down,
i'll pull you down,
and i bet you want me to.

your voice makes me sick,
your face makes me sick,
this hate is nothing new.

poem by Desiree Whitamore
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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