My sarrow

I hate what I'm seeing,
when the world is changing,
i hate me, a being,
i hate to be living,
i wish to be leaving,
i hate, i hate.

i wish to die,
but i know i will cry,
i without a feeling,
of what i soon might b seeing,
i love, but who does back?
i hate, but i can't keep track.
i wish i could fly,
but each time i try,
all i get to do is cry.
why?