Hate.
The feeling of growing hate, one does not just sedate.
For as it builds it's far to late, soon I'll open my inner gate.
I won't attack, it's not my fate. I plan, I wait, I retaliate.

Pain.
You cause me pain, but I see no gain.
Sure, you're vain, less than sane.
I ask once again, what can you hope to obtain?