Wish You Were Dead

I imagine you dying in your sleep. But that’s not painful enough for the many vile things you have done and will do. You came into my family when our guards were down and you planted your evil seed. You made me believe you were a great man. I envisioned playing football and going through my first big crisis with you lending an ear and giving great advice. I needed a Father, mine since dead and no one to raise me except my Mother. You were given the opportunity to raise me up to be a great man but you squandered that away. I hate everything about you from your stupid haircut to the way you walk. I wish you were dead. But not in your sleep, rather a more painful excruciating, organ tearing trauma. The you live, for a week in mortal pain that NO drug can appease. You are worth that much to me. I’ve though of doing you in myself a couple times. I’m sure every person you’ve met can agree. It’s just that your that guy. I hope I’m there for your death whether it be painful or not. I hope I’m the first one that finds you. So I can laugh in your face and proclaim a new day for my family. No more worries from the worthless person named Lenny. Less than a person I should say. No more yelling about things that don’t only not matter but no one gives a fuck about. Your today’s special 50 years ago, moldy and unwanted. I wish that you go into hell or where ever you go and deal with every family that you squashed. My soul is heavy with every morning I wake up and you are there, like a lump of shit that isn’t even worth picking up. Smoke your cigarettes, smoke some more, smoke until you can’t breathe, cough and grab at your chest hoping to taste just one more breath of air. Slowly drowning in your own phlegm and diarrhea. I hope you die tonight, but if you are there in the morning, I’ll just have to hope again.