UnPoetia:Shall I Compare Thee With Thy Mother, 'Ey?
Shall I compare thee with thy mother, ‘ey?
Alloweth she prince or peasant with her to have their way
For a charge so cheap ‘tis almost free.
Sometimes too hot thy stain of womanhood burns
And thou becometh moody and attempt my throat to cut
And every obedient woman from obedience sometimes turns
Through chance or influence of some feminist slut.
But her eternal accessibility shall not fade
Nor regain possession of the pregnancy curse
And daily, in secretive forest or sunny glade
Shall she her clients in her blubber immerse.
For the bounded time thou mother lives
Shall there be another who better fellatio gives.