I Hate (Revision 2)

I hate this poem.

I haven't even finished writing it yet.
I know it'll be read and I'll have to do a revision.
I hate revising my expressions.
It makes my poems pointless.

I hate life.

I nolonger enjoy living.
Something that was once a challenging adventure
is now elongated, torturous test.
I wanna quit but suicide is overrated.
I hate killing myself and thinking of ways to do it.

I hate school.

At first you go to learn nut then they promote money and a degree.
I don't need a degree to be smart.
Why insult my intelligence?
It stresses me out to the point where I hate life.
School is ironically stupid.
I makes me wanna drink during a week day and come to class with a hangover.

I hate hangovers.

I hate myself.  I hate the people reading this poem.

I hate because I don't wanna quit.

I hate quitting.

So I keep moving.

I keep drinking.

I keep dealing with hangovers.

I keep dealing with stress.

I keep going to school.

I keep failing.

I keep doing.

They say it’s all a part of life.

So I keep living.

Something this important wouldn’t cause so much stress.

Something this important wouldn’t give so much pain.

Something this important wouldn’t be worth the poem.

Something this important wouldn’t be worth the hate.