I write poems about bitches.

[dustedoldman]

My lover hath the reddest hair
Indeed, and fickl'est of moods.
At times she may seem coarse and rude,
Yet still I know of none so fair.

I must repeat that none compare,
Though condescension she exudes.
My lover hath the reddest hair
Indeed, and fickl'est of moods.

Both her heart and her womb are bare.
Children? No gift, we each conclude.
And sympathetic attitudes,
For misanthropes, create a pair.
My lover hath the reddest hair
Indeed, and fickl'est of moods.