For The Last Time, My Dear!

Hatred is a choice one makes.

She hates herself:
She hates herself;
Therefore,
Therefore,
She hates everyone else
She hates everyone else

The "dear ones" hate themselves too
Hatred seeps from their pores
Soils their clothes as they leave
Black, sticky and permanent
Stains splattered all over each other.

She learned to hate from
The "dear ones"
And is quite skilled in her art
The same art,
That is eating her alive inside,
Dividing her from her mother
Dividing her from her sisters.

Her hate is:
Omnipresent as it
Seethes, crawls and consumes
All of her.
Obvious to anyone
Who should stumble upon
Her razor riddled pathway.

That slick path,
Crafted from her art,
Never changes in appearance.
Her constant hateful sneer
Frozen in place on her distorted face,
Her overly loud & proud voice
Grates others to their raw core.
Her thick, leather like skin
Provides protection - so she thinks.
Her rigid, self defense stance
Has become permanent rigamortis.

She's forever primed and ready
To dish the hatred out on everyone.
Her policy has become,
I'll throw the first punch,
As fire & brimstone shoot
Out of her mangled mouth.
Searing everyone that dares
Cross her razor ridden pathway.

She uses her large size
As an intimidation tool.
Using her body to, so called,
Inadvertently, physically check
Those she sees as weaker,
When she peers through her
Hazed in hatred eyes.

Out of her soured mouth,
She readily spews and spits
Out every last, gory detail
Regarding what she hates about others.
All the while, unknowingly
Describing herself, with every word.
Therefore; she has no girl-friends
Because, constant self loathing
And hatred for others
Does not win over hearts,
Whether young or old.

She hangs with the boys
Her so called friends
Because, like her,
Leather skin accompanies
Most teenage, young men.
As long as she's dishing
They are great friends;
However;
As soon as she starts receiving,
She runs and hides from them.

It's not a teenage phase
That one readily out grows.
For her and everyone else involved,
It's an ugly, personality trait,
Our uncomfortable reality.
She's not like her mother,
Who avoids confronting her
Due to the amount of overflowing
Hatred that will fly from her mouth.
Further separating the two women,
One college bound and one already grown.

Words stain, burn and linger
Forever embedded in the brain,
Regardless of how leathered
You think your skin has become.
She rules the world
With her rattle and bite,
So she thinks.
What she rules, in all honesty
Is nothing, not even herself.

Let me remind you, young one
You are of legal age, now.
The age that you, so readily
Use against your mother,
While claiming your legal freedom.
Our welcome mat has been
Trampled by you for years now,
Stomped and shit upon by you,
For the very last time.

We are no longer required to:
House your rigid body,
Feed your foaming mouth,
Clothe your leathered skin,
And breath in the pungent air
The hatred that makes you reek.

You have physically checked me,
By far, your junior in size,
For the last time!
You have verbally abused me,
The perceived weaker one,
Who uses controlled, emotional restraint,
For the last time!
For the last time!

For the last time, my dear!