Nothing

"What's wrong?" you ask
Like the best of friends.
"Nothing," I say
Like the foulest fiend.
"Surely something," you say
"I can see it from your face."

And you keep on insisting
Like a broken reacord,
Till I finally crack
Like a sleeping volcano.

And I pour it all out
Like a bucket of water,
All my fear and hatred
Like an ocean of poison.
All my anger and frustration,
All that pain and suffering
That grows within me,
That I feed within me.

"That's all?" you ask
Like the foulest fiend.
"Yeah, that's all," I say
Like the best of friends.
But inside we both know
That you won't hear,
You won't care,
Because you don't know that nothing
Is the worst kind of something.