You keep your eyes averted. You don't care
To gaze on suffering; you're so benign.
Yet silently you curse, for it does wear
Upon your nerves, my pleading for a sign.
Mute kindness proves that what we had has died
A sudden, violent death; but I'll not grieve,
So curse aloud to me. I have my pride-
And decently, in honesty I'd leave.
I beg you turn and see what's happened here-
You don't know! I wish not this thing of you.
Far rather, than your bare sword that's run me
Through and pinned me, stupidly, to the cold wall-
Pray take it that I gracefully may fall!