Sonnet I

From beautiful creatures we raise,
It is pink and beauty can not die;
But how would it be now, Death Wish
Followed can provide memory:
But you can treat yourself to a bright,
Light fuel oil combustion Feed’st your major,
Making a famine where abundance
This is your mind, your enemies, your sweet self too cruel:
Now you have a sweet ornament of the world,
Just a great spring Herald
The flower buriest to content
But pandershmit wrong, drainage mak’st in niggarding:
Pity the world, or else this glutton be
They eat in the world, because of the grave and thee.

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