Hatred at its Finest

She was pure poison

Striking at what she wanted most

and pushing away those

who got in the way.


She wanted something odd,

maybe to make herself seem more full:

She wanted something that meant everything to her opponents

but nothing to her-

their dignity.


She would never stop

She had no mercy on any level

She was like a demon; in fact the devil

But compared to her, the devil has heart.


But you see, she had

a great strategy to hide her hate

Her venomous words spewing out;

\She was an expert at her own spell.


I knew her game,

for every one of her prey did.

But the more she played with me,

the better I got.


So I challenged her demonic game,

running around her like a carousel,

wrapping her in her own lies and schemes

and unwrapping what she so gracefully choked.


But her deceitfulness was always winning

no matter how tight I wrapped her.

I had no choice

but to let her win.


She had won

and I had lost.

But what was ther for her to win?

More hatred, at its finest.

This poem is about: 
My family


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