The Poem

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, that it makes me sick
And even makes me rhyme

I hate it
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 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