I Don't Hate Nothing.

Because sticks and stones may break my bones, but imaginary archaic conceptualisations of the universe can never hurt me.

I don’t hate little fairies; I don’t hate little elves;
I don’t hate magic puddings that regenerate themselves;
I don’t hate Willy Wonka, drop-bears, unicorns or Wookies;
I don’t hate gruff blue monsters who munch pronouns, verbs and cookies;
I don’t hate Wonder Woman just because she isn’t real;
The fact that Flubber’s fiction doesn’t tarnish its appeal;
I don’t hate Cinderella, dressed in rags or richly shod;
And I don’t hate God.

I don’t fear hairy werewolves; I don’t fear boogeymen;
I don’t fear long-dead house pets coming back to life again;
I don’t fear Freddy Kruger, Keyser Soze or the Blob;
I don’t fear Saruman the White or his tree-felling mob;
I don’t fear zombies trudging through a graveyard swathed in mist;
I’m not too scared of vampires; I don’t think they exist;
I don’t fear Doctor Frankenstein, nor his grim personnel;
And I don’t fear Hell.

I don’t need prayers from strangers; I don’t need guilt for life;
I don’t need celibate old men defining ‘man and wife’;
I don’t need ten Hail Marys, sacraments, or flagellation;
I don’t need burning pits or lakes of fire for motivation;
I don’t need someone lecturing me every Sunday morning;
I don’t think floods and earthquakes are some kind of holy warning;
I don’t need ancient rules to tell me when I’m misbehaving;
And I don’t need saving.