147. Fools think their being ever to live,

SONNET 147 

By JH Sayyar
Fools think their being ever to live,
Nothing-permanent all have to go Fair,
According to the accord but to give,
His thoughts for coming race care.
A women’s love O man a fickle thing,
As none knows on earth; when to fly,
Trust not in love I call it a hollow ring,
As evils thoughts to make it beautify
Always trust in self, trust not in other,
Deceive anon as hunters to the birds,
In the heart lays Hamlet’s mother,
I think girls’ mind catch pretty words.

Let my love go in hell you are a liar,
Today all love hungry conscious I fire.