Waiting by the Phone

Why is it that we love those who don't feel the same?
Why is it we fall for those who don't remember out name?
Why is it they want to be friends, when you want more,
Or they only use you, because they want to score?

Why is it the one you love, makes you wait by the phone,
Checking every few seconds to make sure there's a dial tone.
When someone calls, you say "get off, I'm busy!"
Then you sit for the rest of the day, making you dizzy.

Not wanting to move, not wanting to take a breath,
At the end of the night, leaving you for a sad death.
You wait all day long, and don't get called back,
The next day, they say their sorry, but sympathy they lack.

The cycle starts over, one day after another,
With lame excuses like helping their mother.
When will the insanity of it all finally end?
I guess when the truth they over bend.

Yet we all wait by the phone, waiting to hear it ring,
Every time it does getting excited and ready to sing.
Only to find out it's not them, it's the cycle of the day,
Leaving you to feel gloomy, depressed, and gray.

~*Who Cares?*~