Resentment Unleashed: My Hate Poem

I call it my hate poem and I called that for a reason do you ever just like really not like someone yeah I’ve always heard the saying if it’s not okay then it’s not the end meaning everybody gets at least an okay ending and it makes me think to myself that I hope that your okay ending is you getting the Black Plague I hope that when the credits role they play your least favorite song I hope that you get 2% on Rotten Tomatoes and I hope the critics say they felt for the antagonist because the protagonist was a dick and I hope they burn the director at the state because fvck whoever invented you whoever wrote into your story that my character has to be used for your benefit I believe in god but I refuse to believe that he could proudly create a human being as terrible as you that’s simply not a god that I would like to believe in that being said I hope that your guardian angel turned in his resignation form and said “let me play the harp or something, i can conduct better than lucifer did” I hope they show up in your mother’s dreams one last time to say “your little boy is a little b!tch and that’s not on us” sometimes I want to ruin you I want to become a screenwriter just so I can write the worst script ever where your character dies in the end he dies as the villain he dies unloved and the audience doesn’t even talk about him because shit he didn’t even make a good villain you had one job but I have created more than enough stories about you I have written a thousand lifetimes with your name and I tried to write at least good one but none came to mind I can’t find it in me to wish you well all I can do is turn down the script with the lame excuse that the main character needs to be more likable and then I can finally write my own and it’ll probably be in years because they say that in seven years all of your skin has finally shed and that’ll be a new body that you never touched so in seven years I will wash off every ink stain of your memory so until then I’ll work on my rough draft and shred the copy that you left behind you’re still there in between the lines because after all it was still Ursula who gave Ariel her legs right we all have our origin story I guess that you’re mine