hate to love to death to change

i hate myself

i say these words so often

sometimes i wonder if they've lost meaning

i hate myself

and all the things around me

that tear me inside out and leave me

i hate myself

thats all there is to it

its never gonna change

the feeling is never gonna leave

it will only be masked

she loves me

huh, tears

not of sadness but of great joy

she loves me

i hate while she loves

and i love as she hates

she loves me

these words repeat themselves

a constant balance of love, and hate

a never ending circle

her love to my hate

my hate to her love

she loves me

and while the story's just started

i think i can see a few pages ahead

while their will be hate

their will also be love

and for every tear of pain

a smile

and when i read the last pages of our story

i will cry

but not because I'm sad

not because i wish it never happened

because I'm glad it happened

when our last breaths taken

they shall be the sweetest

just like the last few pages of a book

coming to an end

but unlike a book

our story goes on

and on

and on

and who gets their first

i know not

but i do know

whoever finishes the race first

will wait at the finish line

for the other to cross

what I'm saying is now coming to an end

or maybe

a beginning

no, this wont drag out much longer

but maybe the beginning is in me

or maybe

you

Well written, clear thinking, knitting around a wellknown theme: love and hate, closely together, almost friends amongst each other,
and yet- no, it's different.
Of course you end up hating yourself- partly, not always.
Philip, true enough it's serious sadness.

Thanks!