How I hate my own words
My rhymes of my thirst
My pleadings of violence
The consequence
Of adolescence.

How I hate my own deeds
The way my head bleeds
And plants its little seeds
In my sanity's field of weeds.

How I hate the way I stand
crouched and always bent
body getting closer to the land
It will be buried in the end
Or how I crouch me for a friend
Trying to share a shoulder to lend.

How I hate the way I listen
While your voices get to glisten
It makes me frisson
To listen to your wisdom.

How I hate myself
And how I'm put on the shelf
A memory to postpone
How I hate being alone