Warts

Sometimes you worry me, you know;
I cannot tell what brings you joy
And I am just that sort of boy
Who wants to make you happy, so
It bothers me that I can't tell
If you like what I'm trying to do;
And so I simply look at you
And wonder if I'm doing well.
I hope whatever's going on
Inside your head is what you want,
Since sometimes you seem tired and gaunt
As if your happiness were gone.
So if you want to, let me in,
And see if I can make you grin.