I Hate Everything About Them.
An England poem.
What do I think about my family?
Ha, don't even make me laugh.
The equation is so simple really,
You can do the math.
Even though my family,
Has grown rather large,
With so many different faces,
It's more like a mirage.
I hate them, it's that simple.
I don't give a care.
Because either way in the end,
They could care less why or where.
They've hated me since birth,
My mother and all.
That's why I didn't cry,
When her kingdom met its fall.
My only family consisted of,
America and me.
That was until of course,
America did leave.
I hope those so called brothers,
All become hard to find,
Having been eaten up,
By a monster's hunger drive.
Their smirks and their eyes,
Through them all I can see,
Is every one of their lies.
They never loved me,
Even when I was good.
They just cared about each other,
And always ate my share of food.
They left me out in the forest,
Hoping I would die.
But they had no such luck,
Because I found a way to survive.
The fairies comforted me,
As best as they could alone.
They provided me the warmth,
Through each winter's cold.
I never understood what I did,
To deserve their rath and hate,
That's why I curse,
The very bounds of fate.
I had to learn not to trust,
And myself I had to defend.
So it's easy for me to admit,
I hate everything about them.
I based this off of a certain song. Guess who!
Requested by LinkinParkTheKillersFan.
-Soul Spirit-