IRC-Galleria

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 it when you make me
laugh — even worse when
you
make me cry.
I hate it that you're 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.