For Love of Scorn

It’s really quite magnificent.
Guilty until proven innocent.

My back pressed against a wall.
Upon your steps, upon your call.

Concluding that I have wronged thee.
Concluding fore you fully see.

Concluding fore you even ask.
Before my tortured ‘splaining task.

Explaining things you will not hear.
With hope I’ll get back to the clear.

I’m often stuck beneath the pall.
My back pressed against the wall.

I do not know what I can do.
So, I turn to simple trues.

True that I have not done wrong.
True that it won’t be long,

Before you see, before you move,
To my next fault, so fast and smooth.

Leaving me ever in defense.
Want for your favor’s quite immense.

So, I absorb the accusation,
The language of our conversation.

My fight is held in remand.
As I long to understand.

Are you captured by suspicion?
Is this way of your intuition?

If I’m of those you love the most.
Your love passed by me like a ghost.

But in my faith it does remain.
Will such belief for we sustain?

For I’m the object of your scorn.
Perhaps that’s what you so adore.