104. You kill me with your cruel thought,

SONNET 104

By JH Sayyar
You kill me with your cruel thought,
I bury them before you in the grave
Of your pretty ruth that I have got:
Safety from you now consider, save.
Woman’s love like an untamed bear
Demands a tight iron-made nose ring,
Of money to shun disloyalty; the bear;
Dances when you jerk the iron string
Do not trust in whore-kiss; you ruin,
Love is bound with the money fetters,
You fall in love when naval hole croon,
Your soft act becomes like go-getters.

The whore’s kisses in love a gallows,
Leading to death I do tell my fellows!

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