To be brutally honest

Fuck.

You.

I mean it, fuck you. Fuck your lies, your shitty face, your shitty writing, your shitty shallow existence. Fuck you for hurting me. Fuck you for the abuse, the emotional cruelty, the sexual manipulation, the abortion I didn't want to have but why the fuck would I want you to be a father, I might as well have birthed half a monster. Fuck your sentiment. Fuck your future, fuck your ambition, fuck anyone and everyone who will meet you and know you, you ticking time bomb, you radiation emitting sore on the face of decency, you insensitive arrogant selfish prick. I want to exact violence on you, I want to cut off your dick and shove it in your mouth I want to kill everyone close to you so that you know how it feels to have no one. I want to scar you permanently. I want you to know that one day your wife will leave you because staying will kill her. I want your kids to realise that their father has a hole in him the size of India that is at best filled with parasites. I want you to know that my suicide was sponsored by you. I want you to know that I was angry and resentful and bitter and mad as hell until the very end. There is no poetry in you. No life, no viability of it. You are ugly, unkind, unforgiving and undeserving of any kind of happiness. You are the opposite of all that is good and honest. You are sick. Sick in your head and heart and if there is a God then he will be your downfall and if there is a devil, he is in your bloodstream and if there is hope, it jumped ship a long, long, time ago.