Misunderstood.

I don't know why I ask you things, thinking that you care, knowing the reasons for my actions, are already impaired.Too little do we do each dayand rarely comprimiseI know its hard to understand, yet still I don't know why.I don't know why I love to hate, myself as much as I doThe security that comes from paincomforts me right throughI hate to laugh out when it's raining worse when I'm in insidethe lights from the city shining down on my wounded prideI dont know why i wrote thisthere's nothing here but fearI'm trembling and ashamedand hopingthat you will draw me near, that you will start to care.that I will be the one to find the happiness insideand yet I cryand I don't know why.