Immature

Immature

You're childish ways.
You're silly games.
Aren't hurting anyone,
But you.

And now you glare,
And look away,
As though you think,
I really care.

What caused this,
Silly little tantrum?
What have I said,
Or done?

How can I feel,
Remorse when,
All you do is make,
Things worse?

So I'll ignore you,
Hope you go away.
You can play your,
Silly games.

I don't care.
Your hushed whispers,
Don't mean a thing,
To me.

You're childish ways.
You're silly games.
Aren't hurting anyone
But you.