Poem of the day:
Oh yeah. This is so great. A poem that empathizes with the way I feel about love and the male sex. Finally.
Hence Cupid! with your cheating toys,
Your real griefs, and painted joys,
Your pleasure which itself destroys.
Lovers like men in fevers brun and rave,
And onlly what will injure them do crave.
Men's weakness makes love so severe,
They give him power by their fear,
And make the shackles which they wear.
Who to another does his heart submit,
Makes his own idol, and then worships it.
Him whose heart is all his own,
Peace and liberty does crown,
He apprehends no killing frown
He feels no raptures which are joys diseased,
And is not much transported, but still pleased.
Tell your friends.