sometimes, i pray for you to make me hate you.
because i can't get out of it, simply because i won't.
and it eats so much of me, yet i still refuse to leave.
it's as if my brain asking you a favour to make me hate you, to spare my heart from all the agony.

i don't know if you call the act of hanging on brave.
or simply foolish.
i feel used.
efforts flushed down as tears of frustration.
i don't know what you want.
you had everything.
maybe too much.