A Construct of Hate

If empty, I would be blissed. If void, I would be blessed. Yet null I’ll only be when inexistence has caressed.

I am full, I am afraid. I am full, yet I collect.
A myriad useless things, a tiny fraction to obssess.

Most I pick, check and fell, throw inside and just forget.
A few, although I will, are so much harder to neglect.

I try to spit it out, I try to drown it in.
But I’m reminded every moment as it crawls under my skin.

I gather even more, to try to bury it within.
Yet I seem to like the pain, so I’m back where I begin.

I’m a creator of my selves and I create them as I need.
They can heal if I instruct as well as they can make it bleed.

I tried to make a pure one,
yet it fell onto it’s knees.
If from love I can’t create,
one from hate I must construct.

I am empty for a moment,
I am devoid of what surrounds.
I null the noise around,
to find the critter I must kill.

Now I’m full of grief and torment, and afraid is how I feel.
Yet a part of me endures to take the pact that I must seal.

Search inside for something buried, but never trully forgot.
Conjure all my demons to bring all that is rot.

What comes outside is vile and I spit in a boiling pot.
It’s blackened skin reminds me of things that I want not.

Buried for a long time, now reborn to decimate.
My champion of pain, back to recall me what is hate.

I create and I command, and I command obliterate.
It tears me open and removes the pain as it evicerates.

Again standing on my feet, closer to the hellish gates.
This shadow will protect me untill from love I can create.