I'm afraid, you see, of being like you. The Hormone, a terrible thing it is, It makes you feel you want to kiss The most disgusting personage, Just to get some tutelage. But as attention starts to lag, And winsome curves begin to sag Some younger blood is often found, And wrinkled curves are dropped for round. But as attention starts to soar You think about this winsome whore, And wonder if the real trade is 'twixt the madame and her maid. My feelings enter the page, My words become me, As I craft And write.
Indignation spreads quickly, Reputation also.
As I think She reads. Buying presents Is difficult. Don't know if you've been there. You don't expect A gift returned. Her smile is judged a gift fair.