Climb the highest mountain, punch the face of god

What would I call it?

Not an option,
Or a choice.
The hate gets stuck within my voice.
Not with love,
Or a gun.
I cannot stop what has begun.
Not a thorn,
Or a needle,
The little devil starts to wheedle.
Not a sigh,
Or a breath.
I let the moments fall to death.
Not a little,
Or a lot.
This little heart is overwrought.
Not with hate,
Or an option.
I house greed, a dark adoption.

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What would I call it?

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