The day you died felt no more important than any other day,
It never seemed significant to me.
I always viewed it as the sequence of life.
Birth, existence, death, and rebirth.
Yet, my heart was untouched by your death.
As a child, I wondered if there was something wrong with me,
I had always asked myself the same question,
again, and again, repeatedly,
"Why don't I feel sad about your death?"
Sacred, I started to dislike myself,
I believed not missing you was something horrendous.
But now I view things differently, and no longer dislike myself.
As the years went by I slowly remembered all the horrid things you did to me.
The seeds of hatred you put into my mind have grown beautifully,
And the memories may not be beautiful.
I began to realize my hatred for you.
My soul, heart, and mind finally understand the things you have done are horrific.
I now know why I wasn't affected by your death.
I'm glad you're gone.
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