What's wrong with you,

you evil-breathing monster?

Ever since you were a small, little being,

you've acted erratically and horribly;

constantly enraged, spreading yourself all over the floor whilst throwing a fit.

I can remember all of the hours and hours of crying and squealing,

simply because you couldn't receive what you wanted.

All of the hours of shouting and pouting.

Yes, I'm aware of your issues,

but you've got enough knowledge to understand that the world doesn't revolve around little ol' you.

You've grown very little,

still performing the same old acts.

There's no interest in things that are beneficial to you,

only the things that rot your brain.

Stop the insults, when you can't even define them.

Stop disrupting my slumber because you think it's okay.

You've stretched my patience out into a thin layer of ice.

You've stomped on almost every last bit of my patience.

Being evil is not cute, at all.