Chop-Suey .

If I pass away, in the silence of the night,
Would you be crying, for your loss or mine?
In all this world for which we persist and fight,
Sometimes even love, is too selfish to find.

Why do we risk, who is it for?
Another’s smile or to cure my own sore?
Why do we cry, why do we mourn?
Sorry for loss, or get ones to know?

Little do we realize, despite what we see,
Sympathy is a mask, empathy its foe.
And inspite how we sugar, words into another,
All we really care about, is ‘am I at loss?’.

And some of us they understand, when life hits a rock,
Maybe there's none along, to power them and flow.
In honesty, they picturise that we're all alone,
That nobody does love or care if it doesn't benefit their soul.

And why do we blame, the petty ones that pass,
When they do realize their purpose no more.
Did you once lend a hand, when it really mattered?
Then how can you cleanse your hands and say, ‘they could’ve spoken’ ?