I am angry with you,
never approving what you say or do.
That's unfair to you.
However,
I do not understand why you do not love what I love doing,
do not want what I want,
wooing with tepid songs and tarnished rings,
and being satisfied with things I abhor.
Yet this existence I chose,
and now that I despise my life,
I hate you for the lies I invented.
Thus,
a distance alights on me:
I know how great is this injustice--
still I hate.
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