How do you dislike me? Let me count the ways. At least half of what I do and half of what I say Seems to irritate and frustrate you. My deeds mistrusted and misunderstood As something other than selfless good. Your suspicion steals a narrow view Of how I would prefer to spend my time. So the sentence precedes the crime And love is shackled in its gaol, A prisoner with no parole, Once found guilty, condemned for all, And nothing can now avail. Imagined crimes will never fade And penance be neβer truly paid.