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This Doesn't Come From Love

"Dry your eyes mate, I know you want to make her see how much this pain hurts."
Hell yeah I do.
In so much pain, because of you.
I love her but I hate her.
She can't understand my hurt,
I just want to force my hand up her skirt,
and grin at her as she cries.
"Please stop!"

She'll scream, and she'll yell with terror.
I'm sadistic though, her fear brings me pleasure.

"OH stop, no one can hear you, look, I'll scream too."

I would say as I yell along with her, my insane laughs interrupting my mock frightened screams.

But rape is not all I would wish to do. Fists being thrown, knives being scraped, bones being broken.

Broken like my heart. I feel like I love her.

But these thoughts don't stem from love.