She

She makes me feel like shit, yet she makes me feel good. I would die for her yet kill her her with my own to hands. I hate her, yet I really really love her. Why? I ask you. I wish I knew. But I don't , so thers nothing I can do. Well there is, the thing is shold I do it? I ask myself this and get no answer, but thats ok. Its supposed to be a poem but now its a question and it all jsut sounds stupid.