Why do I need to remind how much I hate thee,
My obvious lack of respect towards you,
My lack of responses, not cause for dazeyness,
But a general notion to say get the hell away.

You threw what I held dearly to the ground,
Stomped on it hard with the back of your heal,
Saying you'd never want to hurt,
But did just the same.

From now until you're dead,
I hope those fears haunt you,
Like the pieces of my heart,
That cannot by mended.

You're filth, you're slime,
And I wish you'd die,
But unlucky am I,
To have met you in time.

Penned by my hand on the 7th of Variach, in the year 162 MA.