Help the less fortunate

melancholy, Sadness is my new hobbie. I don't sleep so well, Not that you'd care. And I'm not keeping so well, I wish that you'd care. I wonder could I still make you laugh, If you were here. And the smaller the pieces Of a broken heart, The easier to give away and share. Til given away to anyone, For a broken promise of loveless romance, With no second chance. No future plans.