You don’t know me,

I know you.

You don’t care,

yet I do.

I like the smell of you,

the smell of your hair.

I smell it wherever I go,

see you everywhere.

How long has it been

since you’ve talked to me?

A day, a week,

perhaps two or three.

When I see you in the hall,

my heart hurts so bad.

It makes me do crazy things;

drives me downright mad.

For I hold a feeling

that you don’t

and I will do things

that you won’t.

I want to yell and shout at people,

and let them hear my screams.

I want to tell everyone

what happens in my dreams.

I want to make them feel

the sorrow that chills my bones;

make them hear the heartbeat

of my heart which no one owns.

No one knows the pain I feel,

except for you and me.

We have hurts and sorrows

no one can ever see.

You stroke the fire of my heart

which burns down to embers.

It’s been neglected for a long time,

because you don’t care, remember?