Sonnet Iii Poem by G. Silver

Forgive me, faith, I know not what I say,
For I scorn thee when all you do is try;
I'd forgive, faith, should you lead me astray,
And sit still as the stars fall from the sky.
You worry me so! (I reckon'd as much,
I see through that which you're afraid to show):
Or is worry your game, and, being such,
Far too precious for mere mortals to know?
For one so misleading, you do hold some sway,
But faith we know you're anything but kind,
Should you need me I'm sure that you'd find a way,
Til then I rest listless in my own mind.
So leave me to drown in perilous thought,
Faith, I can see that thou knowest me not.