I despair of your devotion
When even now the ordered sense
Behind the curtain of my eyes
You dismiss as utter nonsense
The misty delusion that if
Life and death hung in the balance
Then you would be spurred to action
Is dispelled by experience
Why should I waste what little time
Awaiting that sorry day when
My inner thoughts match what you see?
My anger will have no outlet
I'll still be able to suffer
Why should I hope for charity
When even now I beg for it
And yet am turned away wanting?