I tell I`m wild; the flesh that I do crave; <br />Though my outside does play a quite calm Joe. <br />But deep in me, all things this so behave: <br />All dames I see my ins with fire do grow. <br />And I with eyes that seem no lusty look, <br />Get covered by a mask: women no fun. <br />But there inside of me my system`s shook <br />I cry to bed with one to have it done, <br />And oft I find myself almost to shoot <br />And hurry to my place to it go through. <br />And like a man gone mad I beat my flute <br />And weep, 'No woman I`ve, that one to do.' <br />And then I envy men, the ones those some <br />That though they`re bad, in sums to them they come.<br /><br />Luis Estable<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sonnet-123/
