What is it you hate about me,
Am I too this, too that,
Not enough of the other thing.
Maybe a tad too different,
Not quite like you,
Not your favorite old sweater,
Perhaps a bit uncomfortable.
What is it you hate about me,
Am I too queer, too fat, too colourful.
Not enough normal for you,
Not enough same,
Not a beer with the guys,
Or a pizza on Tuesday night,
What is it.
What is it you hate about me,
Is it the air I breath,
The blood in my veins,
The feelings that resemble your own
greatest fear.
Are you afraid you might actually
Have to care about something,
Are you afraid of your own humanity.
What is it you hate about me,
Is it something I said,
Is it something you learned
From your prejudiced pecking order peers.
What is it you hate about me,
Is it the fact I make you think,
Make you face your own stone cold heart.
Make you face your own personal shit.
What is it,
This hate.
What is it,
This anger.
What is it,
This missing love.
