Sometimes you get mad at me

 for searching through your things.

You never understand why I always have to pull on all your strings.

You decide to change the passcodes,

You turn off all your rings.

You look at me and say, “this will bring us lots of peace”

I try to smile and say yes you’re right and I agree,

But deep down I hate that that’s the answer to the hypocrisy.

You get mad at me for searching

But I get mad because I am hurting

It’s like you’re starting a fire and getting mad at me for looking

I wish there was an answer a way we could understand,

 that all we have are feelings but that’s just much to bland.

So we have to make it exciting no conclusion till there are tears,

if you can see that I am hurting I must be sorry for my fears.