I do not phantom what thou ponder, and

I do believe that thee think of me to be some sort of nuisance.

Perhaps even not all there, a pestering hindrance, inane idiot?

It is not my wish to annoy thee,

But all it seems at present.

Would thou still believe if I should proclaim:

I love, trust and respect thee?

Or perhaps I have failed thee once to much?

I may be lost at present mirth,

But not forever I should hope...

My mind be tedious in this chaos,

But maybe soon the scales would balance.

Just please hear this plea,

I do not wish to pester thee.