My very existence is dreadful,
Even in times where I affiliate with delight,
They still spite the thought of me.

I am but the repercussion and not the afflicter.
I am also touched by their infirmities.
How do I make a convincing argument?

Would they blame me any less if they really knew?
If they saw how much I suffer with them,
Or am I just an easy prey?

I give myself to these persecutions.
As long as it puts them at ease,
Over and again, I bear it all for them.

© Idiopoet