Hate It

I hate the word.

I hate what it means.

I hate what it’s used for.

I hate how it’s used in lies.

I hate how it’s indefinable.

I hate the irony of hating it.

I hate using words like it.

I hate words that mean the same thing as it.

I hate that I hate it.

I hate that everyone seems to have it but me.

I hate that no one can feel like that for me.

I hate using it.

I hate that I’ve used it.

I hate that I saved its use for something special.

I hate that the special thing was not special at all.

I hate that I said it to you.

I hate that I said in the first place.

I hate its existence.

I hate love.