To worry about you, I will,
To fill the cup you always spill,
“You're too nice,” I voice,
She hums, “It's my choice.”

“What about you” I retort,
Not a word, not a second thought,
Her heart belongs to this place,
The people within it who race.

The competitions are endless,
The struggles to be sadless,
She provides an open door,
Not expecting the uproar.

People are selfish you see,
Themselves would win over she,
But she's so naive for this stampede,
Not seeing...