Borrow Cupid's Wings

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A lover?

Then borrow Cupid's wings and shoot out your arrows,

And knock out those young maidens.

Promise them fidelity, promise them eternity,

Fill their hearts with the ever-addicting woe of divergence.


Convergence is what they desire though,

Their hearts long for laughter though.

For once! They covet to overlook their miseries.

For you guys nowadays combat chivalry.

As for, they are broken.

With slightest of attention you'll own them.

They'll loathe it but can't they help!


Their entire lives they've dwelled.

'Cassie' what they've been called,

They've been waiting for far too long.

With your promise, eternity they'll starve.

Be the drug their veins desire,

Tying their white hearts with wires!

And in the end when you make them fall from their cloud nine,

They'll fumble out on whom to call their 'mine'.


And by Holy Lord I swear!

It'll be no one but themselves.

They will address their lifeless pillow as Endymion,

And sleep by him,

And weep by him.


The poem's ended; just like the need of this muse.

"Oh! You want to indulge in a fine Sculpture now?"

"You found your Sculpting muse?"

"Dear Lord! She is so indifferent

So not special,

Like every other of your weasel!"

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