I hate the way you talk to me.
And the way you cut your hair.
I hate the way you drive my car.
I hate it when you stare.
I hate your big dumb combat boots.
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 lie.
I hate the way you make me laugh.
Even worse when you make me cry.
I hate it when your not around.
And the fact that you didn’t call.
But mostly I hate the way I don’t hate you.
Not even close.
Not even a little bit.
Not even at all.