Wanted, is the feeling you lack,
Feeling frustrated and wanting to attack
But you keep emotions dormant.
Not wanting to kill the informant
You love them but hate them.
You want them, you don’t.
Can’t live with them,
But would feel weird without them.
Please understand the calm anger
That enjoys staying inside.
There’s no point to acre,
Because does anybody care?
This I ask of everyone;
Who truly, honestly cares?
If I were gone tomorrow
Who would cry?
Who would dream about me?
Would my memory
Be somebodies therapy?
Would people remember me, and how?
I’m not sure now.
Questions I ask for afterward.
Some shun and think they’re absurd,
But if you haven’t heard
I don’t give a you know what.

 
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