Cry me an I

Deceiteful is every throe
Which squeezes tears so sore
Anon sugary to the core
As long as you deem it true
That the drops that mizzle you
Merely cheeks of yours bedew

Now who perseveres obstinately so
In his misconceptions' throng
Claiming imepriously dole
And drops and sorrow's source
As his very, irrefutably own?

Who is weeping?
Who is wept upon?

While he does so
The rain falls
Yet all is dry
Only cheeks are moist