Sonnet 66 – Oh, oh,
Brown-Eyed Boy
And Death has
outranked Love inside my mind
Oh, Lord, I do not
want to be retired
The hair is white,
skin now a wrinkled rind
I need a brown-eyed
boy to be inspired
Of course, I never
had the skill of paint
And hated high heeled
shoes and skinny skirts
No man has ever seen
me swoon and faint
Pumpkin-headed women cannot
be flirts
We writers feign that
personality
Is so much more
important than the looks
Real men have smote
me with reality
They don’t care if I
wrote a hundred books
It’s time, at last,
to admit to you all
At heart, I’m a male
homosexual
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