I hate your living guts!
That mug, that fake ugly mug of yours.
That smell, that stentch, that icky little beard of yours.
That goop, that ick, those sticky little hands of yours.
That mud, that muck, those broke lookin' cloth's of yours.
That sound in the air? That irritating voice of yours.
I hate you, I do. I hate your living guts!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem