I have all these questions for you…

Someday, you’ll realise that doing nothing is wrong.

Maybe, you’ll even see why.

Would you ever care if a person was crying?

Or is it easier to never reply?

Do you even bother to read the words I write, or listen to the words I speak?

Can you sit still and maybe love me for more than a week?

How hard is it for you to stay kind?

How do you expect me to look for an answer, when I don’t know what to find?

You can’t find happiness in an empty soul, so why do I search for mine inside yours?

Tell me please ’cause who has a fucking clue.