By Will
I go begging door to door, for divine love,
Carry me to a world beyond, these aching limbs,
My lover always alone, while surrounded by others,
Ten thousand thoughts, about why I am less,
Like an oasis in a desert, I am a foolish son,
Inferior to anything under heaven’s sky,
She share’s my pleasure, but not my pain,
This poem calls, for love to cure.
