Number Five Thousand Twenty Six and One Half, by Cutie In A Death Cab Subscribe to rss feed for Cutie In A Death Cab 

I hate you.

You have your hands around my throat
and you're smiling all the while.
You're so vile
but I want you.

I get sick
when I look at you
but I never look at you
not at you
not at you
just a photograph
It hurts me so much
it makes me laugh.

I hate you.

Oh how I need to hate you.
Posted: 2005-11-16 19:52:44 UTC
Current vote: 5. To vote, you must be logged in.
To leave comments, you must be logged in.

2006-12-31 20:15:58sk8t3R gal 4 eva
this is not a good poem, and the title makes no sence acording to the poem!!