It's harder for me to say the things on my mind sometimes, but other times,
You can't stop me.
I'll tell you what I'm thinking right then and there,
And I'll tell you why you piss me off so much.
Is it normal, for me to your face, and understand the definition of hate?
Is it normal for me to see you, and everything in my brain goes haywire?
You see, you may not understand what I'm saying,
And I'm fine with that.
Because I know you will understand when I tell you everything about you,
All of your flaws, your fake characteristics of perfection, and everything that is wrong with you,
That you are the person that creates and moves the mechanic core of evil that surrounds human kind and humanity.
I may seem to talk in riddles, and you might not understand what I'm saying,
But when I want you to understand something I'm saying, you will know when that time has come.
It may seem wrong of me to judge you, when the point I'm trying to get across is that all hypocrites have sinned against their own word.
But that does not matter to me when you're the subject of my venom-laced words.
You are the hate that fuels me, the energy I crave to make your unimportant flaws come to the surface.
You may be the hypocrite, but what does that make me?
Not a hypocrite, or even a judgmental creep,
But simply a clever renegade.