I wish I “didn’t” care like you say I do…
Because I care too much what you think…
I wish I was this cold-dead being that you think I am…
I’m not and it kills me that you’d believe I am so cold…
Yet in life you seek out the little things in people that you want them to be…
I might not care during most times…
Yet I do “feel” and I do “Love“…
I guess just not in the way you do…
Or is it the other way around? We may never know…
Because you speak in riddles and rhymes…
Always giving me questions and tasks to live up to…
And expect me to fail, yet when I do…
You want to scream at yourself and wonder what all this time means…
I can’t answer you…
Because every time I begin to believe I‘ve got the answers…
You change the questions…
