I hate the way you talk to me,
and the way you dye your hair.
I hate your bad-temper while driving your car,
I hate it when you stare.
I hate your same old slip on shoes
and the way you read my mind.
I hate you so much it makes me sick,
it even makes me rhyme.
I hate the way you’re always right,
I hate it when you never try.
I hate it when you make me laugh,
even worse when you make me cry.
I hate it when you’re not around,
and the fact that you kept me waiting for your call.
But mostly I hate the way I don’t hate you,
not even close…
not even a little bit…
not even at all.
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