I think God Hates Me

A Poem

I think God hates me.

From the day of my birth

I was gifted to parents that hate me.

Intolerant and shameful of their child

since I was a baby.

With no milk to offer, no cradle to sleep in

I can’t really say things ever got better.

No, because by the age of 3, to my brother,

I was a mother.

I think God hates me

because I never had the space to love myself.

Every moment of pride

lead to a day of welts.

I was given a mind I can never use

because the fear I was spoonfed

suffocates all my dreams and my thoughts

until, inside, I feel empty and dead.

I think God hates me

because since the age of 8

I’ve been in the wrong body.

My skin too big with some parts missing

and some too many.

I never seem to ever quite be “enough,”

and I know I shouldn’t be so mad at myself

and hating the world feels like living in hell,

but I’ve been filled with rage since the age of 12.

And it didn’t get better.

And it didn’t get better.

And I think God hates me,

and I was told he gives tests,

but why are you treating me like Job

before I ever had the chance to sin?

Was the life you created in me not enough for you?

Did you have to test me so hard

I was dying to meet you?

My voice is just one in a million

in a chorus of misfits, too.

If you hated us all, you should have said so from the start,

you’ve left me with one lifelong experience of falling apart,

and there is no room for someone as cruel as you

you are no guiding light, you’ve been Satan’s Father, too.

But at least he gave Eve a choice that you would never allow,

at least he exposed you with how Job fell.

At least he accepts all that you’ve deemed unworthy,

that you made in your image, only to bully.

And if the life that you offer leads me to love you

to somehow replace all of this self loathing

that you

that you

that you in all your Wisdom chose to put me through

then I will accept nothing more from you.