a study toward sonnet #1,233 by FisherKingKQJ
Those people you call parents want you free
Of my poor company, short for my kind;
Though law true, I'm not openly maligned,
With putdowns guessed I'd openly agree.
The brains and beauty that they see I see,
You chose me beau, so therein lies the bind;
Their doubts quash in front, my own qualms behind,
Girl given that I could peer with, I'd flee.
I've cried a lot; I fetch that I'm her foil,
In my dim dimness she can more dazzle:
She's brilliant, I'm tuned, she's talent, I'm spoil,
She's wit, I'm clownhood, feeding frazzle.
Righting her taste, I'd make her out rotten,
Through her parents' look, a plum illgotten.
(Chorus)
o $10,000,000 rotten
o $10,000,000 decayed
o $10,000,000 foul
[Autocube3 - for 3d interactive movies.]
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