Why should I cry for someone,
who would not cry for me?
Why should I look at them,
with sympathetic eyes,
when they look at me in hate?
Their hearts are stone,
why should I pray for them.
They do not want me,
I don't need them.
Yet something burns inside,
A flame of love and hope.
I can not help but feel sorry for them,
The sorrow that they will never know.
This flame of compassion I have,
for everyone I see.
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