I'd hate me too

Raw and unfiltered confessional piece that talks about personal trauma, identity struggles, and emotional turbulence. It unpacks childhood alienation, family fractures, and internalized anger

I tripped on a creek while hiking,
Ripped my jacket on a cold evening,
Wrecked my mind over a broken phone.
These watered-down tantrums make me vulnerable.

At eight, everybody hated me�"
Dark skin, thick-boned, man-loving, scared little boy
Desperate to make friendships happen.
I stole 50s from my grandma’s Chanel Boy,
Bought cheap chocolates and made them foreign,
Just to feel like I belonged.

Mom took a knife in the bathroom.
Dad reached out through the little vent.
What a way to picture a loving family.
She packed her bags, crying, "I want to go home."
This is what love looks like�"letting go.

If someone tripped over my wire,
I’d glare, almost wishing their worst fate.
I’d set my enemies on fire,
Listen to their agony, wait for regret,
Make them think�""what a waste."

I can’t control my hands.
I’d slap you red, fingers tightening around your throat.
I commit tiny deaths just to relieve
The stress of this aching back.
Digging holes with bare hands,
Searching for X-marks-the-spot,
But the chest is still buried�"
Deep, untouched.

My brain is not to be revered�"
It lunges toward fantasies I’m told to forbid,
Sways on the threshold of cruelty,
Maintains a good boy imagery.
But the barricades break, and I see�"
The carpet is already rolled, dusted clean.
No longer blessed with Midas’ touch.
Maybe at fifteen, I used all my luck.

I’ll excuse myself, try to be better�"
Paint portraits you’ll see at the Louvre,
Write songs to duet with Dylan.
But what’s the use?
My spirit won’t meet my bones.
Imagination still boxed away,
Waiting to be unwrapped�"
Placed alongside the classics.

Author's Note

Contains graphic imagery, proceed with caution. Love always!

Reviews

[Carlos Lorenzo Estrada]

The thing I enjoy most about poetry is its revealing aspects. Where between the words one can view the writer's soul. This is an example of the power of art, and poetry. Thank you for sharing your work with us. CLE

[Acerous Lee]

The soul is an unruly storyteller—no matter how carefully we wield the pen, it spills between the lines, leaving traces of truth we never meant to reveal. Thank you, CLE!