Hate the whore, the heathen
Remind me to smile, My style is to forget,
I need the extra mile, while I feel such regret.
I hate the sun, when it rises to set,
I hate the fun, when it surprises I fret,
I stay away from happiness,
but indulge so in pleasure,
I restrain myself from sadness,
but wallow so in leisure.
I hate the pain but refuse to avoid,
I punish my brain, and remain devoid,
I stroke my mane, with patchy joy,
I abuse my sorrow, which may annoy,
I refuse all love, like Helen of Troy.
I hate the thoughts I will never let go,
I hate that I dream to play with my children in their first snow,
I hate that to everything I will always say no,
And I hate myself more now, than anyone will ever know.