I will not weep to suit you
my sorrow is my own
Anguish inflicted to satiate
though felt will never show
The pain that makes your staple
through intimidation gain control
will not feed on my emotions
or make a carcass of my soul
The affections that you render
to bolster lacking self esteem
in the end are autogenous
and spotlight failings most extreme
Empathetic to your history
though presence strong and sure
save a hidden brutal secret
the tortured child you can't ignore
But the past makes no excuses
your albatross is yours to port
just like the private damage
left to those you use for sport