Love
Perhaps sweeter than honey in its tiny cell,
Bold expectations of Heaven;
Often ending up in Hell.
Why do people believe its easy,
Theyr’e seeking love that’s true?
When usually its infatuation,
Some wolf hunting for a screw.
Love is something sublime,
Where you don’t wallow in slime;
A state of bliss from a sensous kiss,
Taking one to a sunny clime.
To take love to its Zenith,
From Heart you have to mean It;
Or you’ll leave behind a sordid mess,
Leaving someone else to clean it.
Love is something precious,
Meant for only two;
Just sex alone is for animals,
All living in some zoo:
So be so true unto thyself,
And do what you have to do
Love your partner as yourself,
I’m sure she’ll love you too.
- Prince Freakasso (Painter & Poet)
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