I hate the way you talk to me and the way you cut your hair.
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 it when you lie.
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 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.
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