i really hope you liked the flowers

Feeling like I've still got something to say.
But I don't know what it is,
And I don't know how to reach you even if I did.
Am I big enough to hear that you never even think about me?
And I thought that I'd outgrow this kind of thing.
Tell me, aren't we supposed to mature or something?
The mind may grow wise, but the heart just sulks
and it whines and remains a child.
Why don't you love me?

- the heart remains a child,
everything but the girl