I HATE every Little thing about you.
There are so many things that I want to do.
Like stab you in the chest and rip out your heart,
then shove it back in while its all torn apart.
I start to vomit when I picture your face,
and I want you to burn in your own disgrace.
I'll hand you the matches that you'll have to light.
I want you to force yourself to ignite.
As you go up in flames, I�ll stand back and wait,
watching with pleasure as you incinerate.
I'll stay just long enough to spit on your ashes,
and laugh in your face as your soul falls and crashes.
It would be just enough, but until you are dead,
All of these thoughts dance around in my head.