Conditioned

To protect and serve to dictate and abuse, you make me hate you. You created me with your superior attitude. And you expect me to respect you? And I wouldn’t care if you died, right before my eyes. I feel no sympathy, watching your demise. And to side with you is like siding with the iron fist, and to support you, is like supporting a rapist. And I wouldn’t do that. You made me what I am, you made me hate you. That’s why it makes me smile when someone kills a pig or two.