Who cares.

I think I've been wrong,
mistaken being weak with strong.
All the judgements & indignations,
yet taken no actions.
There's the sense of loss,
plus the rage & escapes.
But why am I still here?
Just to stand around?
Maybe I will be happy, by chance,
to help someone, anyone.
It's always been an excuse,
that "I felt deeply, & cared too much."