Helpless Hate

Her pain provokes an anger deep from within.. A hatred so ugly even the devil himself looks in disgust as he shakes an icy chill from his thorny spine. Her struggle pains me.. A deep, searing pain in my chest; I close my eyes and picture cold steel hands ripping open my chest cavity and tattooing words of hate and sin on my heart itself. An excruciating burn that ignites my insides like Satan setting fire to a fresh delivered batch of tormented souls.. I hate her pain. I hate her struggle. Nay, I loathe them to my core, to the pit of my guts, to the last drop of blue blood from my fresh squeezed body. How can I help? what can I do? Besides sit idle and watch the love of my life, the woman that gives me motivation to jump to the stars and reach my dreams, gives me the very air I breathe in my lungs; struggle in pain. The look on her face as these two things I hate torment my angel, rips my soul right out of my body and dangles it in front of me laughing, mocking me as it smashes it to the ground and stomps all over it.. "not any longer," I say to myself tugging impatiently at the pink wristband on my arm. "I will not give up this fight."