SONNET 180
By JH Sayyar
I do bury my love in your soft bosom,
You must do it before my tender will,
Your love was cheat with your twosome,
Like a bitter bull cry my poor heart-shrill.
I bury live wishes; not all deals O Fair,
In your will-grave for the second birth,
Now give me the wish crown you wear,
And you with false beauty rule the earth.
On the Day of Judgment my will, will take,
A new birth with a new shape as a young,
Roaming with the pixies near Pishon Lake,
That is why; my death bell I have rung.
Lie lies in women, hot love in cute girls,
I love all young women with silky furls.
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