Warm Hands Poem by Mustafa Ghuneim

there is something wrong,
And you keep it as a secret,
Everything is vague,
And the info is discrete,
and no need to brag,

The days pass by,
I grow more suspecious,
If something happened to you,
I would die for you my precious,
Not so fair to keep it away,
and the day you stand, you walk away,
Is it done, should I go?
Should I leave greed take control?
Is it fair to be the one who dunno?

I need to know because I care,
On bad and good we ought to share,
Just like gloves, we're born in pairs,
When one is torn, you should repair,
But foremost, it would be thrown away.