Hey
Do you know
how much you can inflict in me,
oh-so-easily?

Do you know
how I cherish every feeling you leave,
because that's all I have?

Do you know
is it you, or me,
who is being ingenuous?

Do you know
it's you who make me write ****** poems,
in a language that's not my mother-tongue?

You don't
thank you for that,
and everything else.

Sometimes, ignorance really is the bliss.