Why do you even talk to me?
You know that there is not a thing to see
Or learn for you
And while you are a drooling imbecile
Who’s only worth my time when I have time to kill
I loathe the fact
And even this is true
I lost my tact

It grows on you
The more I call you stupid names
The more it’s true
And not to start a war of flames
I’d rather just pull back
I would not waste my time on you
So now I act out of the blue
And will despise you ever so
My soul is black
Some part of it will always show

Here ends the piece
Written out of spite
To last a day, a night
And be forgotten, lest anyone
Remembers you
And even hatred is too good to feel
Towards you, and ignorance be your seal
For I loathe the fact
With all the credit due
I lost my tact.

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