there's a hole in my heart, you see
but you cant see it when you look at me
because it's hidden down deep,
except when it surfaces with the occasional bleed.

the same can be said about you, i know.
because something along the way wounded you, too.
some days, you forget about it
but other days, it consumes you.

so if this is true,
why are you not more kind to me, and me to you?