3 Dimensional Interactive Movies

sonnet #1,667

You must've loved someone who was plain bad
News once, and cried, and gone and grabbed some more,
The pain appeals, as when he can adore
You mostly - slightly meanly make you sad.
You've watched a hundred sunsets, fun times had
The ninety nine times - yet one he calls a bore,
It's stuck so scathingly, to make you sore-
He's tender otherwise, a scumbag tad.
You'll draw him up and dote, you'll praise him well-
He'll slap you down to brink of welt or bruise-
He's no fresh dust speck dredged from oyster shell-
His love is right and raw and rare, no ruse.
The grain he gives you next is good as gold,
Shapes worth as much as massive else on hold.

(Chorus)

o gold
o platinum
o silver