Why is it that for nothing
You are so much interested
To know so many things
About me and my past
When I have kept nothing
Hidden from you in all my
Intimate sharings with you
This year, and all those who
Have preceded this, even when the
Smallest of details you have not
Always found relevant for your
Purposes and then not appreciated,
I have put in total view without any
Attempt at screening or pruning things
And it surprises as also hurts me as you
Insist on getting details of things you know
Not if truly I know, and in some ways hide
From you to frustrate your mission on
Putting in that acceptable format that
The people funding your project have
Carefully conceived to let matters that
Have never been there appear great
And unique to make them, in ease,
Drag me to depths of gloom about
Which I should never have intimately thought
And thus, in utterly difficult ways, I should suffer,
Not blaming you in my knowledge of your
Acknowledged foolishness on the bare breast
Of which, in arrogant display of their crooked
Intelligence, they would celebrate how, in your
Betrayal their loyalty to their credo to make me
Suffer, shall don colours in pride and victory
That, through you in love and kindness, I, in
Grave dangers should find myself in my solid
Efforts to expose their damned deeds of poisoning,
You to kill me in your arms as your heart must be
Bleeding at the realisation that you, in vain, in their
Camp courted defeat for me that they sold you as
Stuff victorious which you must never fail to use,
Till they do declare you have never have a face
To be trusted for your safe survival and others’
Dignity and existence, that you could very deftly
Endanger without having to just think for a while
That anything odd and unwanted could take place,
Leaving me badly bruised and bound with you never
To be found in states superior to where you have ever
Been in my company enjoying my trust till this sad treachery?
