Deserts

I guess you just don't know how much it hurts.
I cannot think you know and just don't care.
Destiny provides one's just deserts
By turning out one just as would be fair.
Just as a child learns to its delight
That lying sets one fabulously free,
So you say "love" to get the rapture right,
Getting so the most you can from me.
And then, of course, you tire of your pleasure,
As those who seek but pleasure often do,
And sacrifice by far the greater treasure
Upon the altar where you worship you.
Justice would demand you be the fool,
But you are far more ignorant than cruel.