Hate.

As the police take down my details
I drunkenly plead my innocence
“I didn’t do this! I’m telling you!”
These words make no difference
In my heart I know I am guilty
Or at least guilty by association
Because I’m a fucking teenager
And we’re rotting the core of the nation

I angrily look at the victim
I meet his triumphant eyes
“I’ve caught those damn kids!” he thinks to himself
I hope that fucking cunt dies
And even though I’m not innocent
And I’ve done worse things in the past
I can’t help but feel like I am the victim
Because by my look and age I’ve been classed

I can understand why the victim was angry
If I was him, I would be too
I just wish he could shake his ingrained ideas
His stereotypical views
Because now I’m the one who has to tell my Dad
Give him the wonderful news
The cops busted me for tagging up a house
And possession and consumption of booze

To the victim I’ll become just a story
That he can tell his family and friends
To my Dad this’ll be just another 100 bucks
To add to the debt that never ends

And while I still hate the victim for catching me
And hate how well he used stealth
There’s one person who I hate ten thousand times more
And as usual, that person’s myself.