Tell me what’s wrong

Tell me what's wrong, what the issue is,

Why you're upset with me, mister, miss,

Lull me back into that eternal bliss,

With inevitable assurance nothing's amiss.

Tell me what's wrong, what I can fix,

If you're built of stone, I'm made of sticks,

I need my surroundings to be of sturdy bricks,

So I can mend, mediate, spread the two Twix.

Tell me what's wrong, what I should do,

Your exasperated sighs might do it for you,

But you can't read my mind, of course this is true,

So why don't you get I can't read yours, too?