What Could Have Been A Love Letter(You Haven't Entirely Driven Me to Full-Blown Misanthropy, But Know You've Pushed Me Quite a Ways in That Direction)

I will not dare to call you fair,
though I used to hold you dear.
Too much to bear, let's clear the air
of all these senseless cheers.
(Is it a routine?)
For my age to turn a page
in a book driven by disdain for humanity?
Or is this a hidden tourist attraction,
a guided tour to the brink of misanthropy?
Where boundaries are overstepped
and secrets we kept
(shhh)
become recorded and commonplace
through the ever-flawed system of
customer comment cards.
Is it too much to ask for
a better past for my future to
(fondly)
reminisce about,
for times of war to go ignored
to bask in the love
I've learned to live without?

After all these years,
I just want a day without
my hand curling into itself
becoming fist in a fit of rage.
If I stay here
without a doubt,
my neck wrapped in a belt,
I'll turn the page.