My Bride

With what vanity and pride doth come, My prospective bride to be, Ugly, moderate or beautiful? She should be dutiful to me. Its not the colour of her skin, That has me going from saint to sin. Her love is what I’ve always sought, Not necessarily on the ground or cot. When passion from her soul doth pout, Awake and arisen my loving spout. Till death should send us separate ways; Both us is love no doubt. My love for her no longer in, But definitely on out. - Prince Freakasso (painter & poet)