Unread, but seen.

Lost but not found.
My soul is simply a book unread.
No pictures to be seen.
No words to be said.
Nothing but a secret forgotten.

Why do you take the time to read these sorrowfull cries then?

Word from Word.
Line from Line.
There is no end.
And still you continue to read.

Cries unheard.
Tears unseen.
Cuts unhealed.
And yet you read on.

But why?
Why do you insist on reading farther?
How do you continue to read what is not there?

Cries of pain.
Tears of hurt.
Cuts of blood.
And yet there is emptiness.

But you know the truth.
So please, tell me why you insist, why you continue to read?

Do you enjoy seeing my pain?
Does it make you feel stronger knowing that you could take control over my emotions, my sanity, my actions at any time just by changing a word or two?

Or is it because you care?
Do you wish for these cries to end, these tears to stop falling, these cuts to stop bleeding?
Do you simply just want me to be happy?