Detestation
There was never a thing,
Missed more,
Than the love of the dearest family.
Yet how would I know?
I stand in the blood of the nearest thing,
And I hold the cursed piece of metal in my hand,
As if a favorite toy.
They never loved me,
They never cared.
So how would I know?
I have watched others,
Loathingly saw,
All the care,
And attention they received,
Instead of I.
That's how I know.
That's why I am here.
That's why they are gone,
To a place I shall never see,
And refuse to go to be.
