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 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.