I hate my memory
When it notices the date is a six,
Because that's the day we built a love out of sticks.

I hate my hair
When it's long enough to flutter down to my chest,
Because that's when you thought it looked the best.

I hate my songs
When one that I edited the lyrics of plays,
Because it reminds me of those happy days.

I hate my words
When they remind me of yours,
Because they can make a person crawl on all fours.

I hate my mood
When it reminds me of how I felt dealing with you,
Because my face is red with rage but I feel so blue.

But before I say adieu,
I have one final hate for you.

I hate my poems
When they're written about you, Miss Meghan Green,
Because they're so obscene.