The Fruit of a Bored and Slightly Annoyed Mind

Well, in my boredom it appears I've done it again.

They're funny things, emotions,
For how they make us feel,
From quivering scared like jelly,
To having nerves of steel.

And when I think about them,
The ones I have for you,
I often feel confusion,
As I'd like to lose a few.

The meaningless devotion,
The care gone unreturned,
I see no sense in feeling this,
The love you often spurned.

Yet here I sit, a failure,
Lacking a way to change,
Just quite what you mean to me,
But then, the heart is strange.

It's clear, from all your actions,
The face you choose to show,
That "Do you feel this for me too?",
Would yield the answer "No".

I know I often can't compare,
To others you call friends,
They're far more fun and genial,
And so our friendship "ends".

'Cause so long as it's not effort,
There's nowhere else you'd rather be,
It's then that you pretend to care,
And be civil towards me.

But now I want no more of it,
These thoughts of trust and care,
Because I'm sure you'd much prefer,
That I was never there.

The thing that's really sad, though,
The thing I think is rare,
Is that for all my bluster,
I think I'll always care.