Unamused

Why all this vilification, boy?

Had you thought that I was your toy?

That my every day and every night

Was dedicated solely to you by right?

Designed, was I, to pledge you my troth,

By vocation and avocation, both?

Beg pardon, sir, for my slight,

Turning my attention from thy might.

My fault ’twas, that you were so small

That left to yourself, your life would pall.

Unsustained by my constant attention

What’s left to you but ascension?

On my account, please do not stay –

Heavenward, by all means, make your way.

And should you choose to go to Hell,

Kind sir, that would do just as well!