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Hell Hath
Kick me and hit me, wound me with your words.
Starve me and hate me, wound me with your words.
Choke me, smotherly, hold me to your bosom,
scream my name, hurt me with every hate in your lungs.
Smile and be demurre, for hell hath no fury,
this man scorned for fear, treated with derision,
Slap I lay upon your cheek that's later kissed so sweet,
staunches the tide, wounding words that knock me off my feet.
A battle is the only thing I truly do not want.
Worlds of anger poured upon me only makes me weak:
as I love the hater for her passion, wanting me to change,
she has a poison in her, my patience useless, taunting.
