I'm the rock, the land in stormy seas,
The immobile certainty, the guarantee.
You complain and you cry and I shut up and listen,
But you never do the same for me.
I nudge my problems at you, with caution,
In case you turn around and leave.
You never listen to my worries,
But you expect me to care about yours.
And maybe I've enabled a habit,
With my martyr's tendency for pain,
But honestly I think it should click,
That I'm in need of some honest promise listen to me.
You've always got your problems
So they overshadow mine.
You've always got your issues
But hey, I am not fine.
I'd appreciate if you'd slow your mouth,
And look directly at me, at me!
Instead of the solid stone you wanna see.