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.