I’m happy to look after you.

But don’t take it for granted.




I have begun to hate you…

The way you sit on your high horse,

thinking you’re without fault,

while everyone around you competes for the best position

to kiss your fat ass.

I have begun to hate you…

Your slobbish, and grotty habits,

that make it a full time, despicable job,

for which you practically need a team of cleaners

attached to your heels

every minute of every day and night,

merely to keep the place clean-ish.

I have begun to hate you…

The snide remarks about me to (the constant stream of) visitors,

designed to make everybody laugh,

while a tiny bit more of my self esteem

shrivels up and abandons me.

I have begun to hate you.