Imprompto...
Things dont even matter when you don't care, Why is it that even then you think to dare. No relation, no connection, no emotion yet sad, No fault, yet it feels futile, worse than being just mad. There wasn't a thing, not the smallest of links there, All was mere supposition on this silly part I swear. Why should it hurt when there was never a wound, No pain yet its bad enough going back around. Thinking is of no use some say, some say ignore, If only it was so easy you are all but called a bore. No one really cares for what you think of it, For all have their life to live playing the small bit. Your mind's a mess, a bad mess but why, Can't understand just as the wide blue sky. Why did the mind had the silly chocolate of hope, And when you see the empty wrapper you know its the end of the rope. The world is going on its way all the time and days, No one has got time for your chatter and meddling ways. The healing of an imaginary wound which