Ruing The Past Again

I see you sit in contemplation.
You wonder what may have been that day
When you threw yourself into my realm,
If hatred hadn't got in the way.
Hatred not of me, but the concept
That I represented for my looks.
Close to the Nazi ideal I was,
Hence you curse your old biases' hooks.
Your irrationality's gone now,
For what image another presents.
You seethe, cursing your past programming,
And what history misrepresents
As written, and how you were twisted
In your way to reject ev'rything
That is held in esteem by the world.
That's not bad, when I check the briefing

Of what you've become;
Which is more like me.

(Hey! Generally 'bout half my hairs are blond, and the other half are light orange, OK? A few sandy ones here and there. I colour the hair sometimes for my cases, depending on what's necessary.)