Bottled Appetites

At burials and bouquets, there are always the bastards and royals, Navigators of their own share of fools, The royals, always sour with complexions yet they are the owners of all creations, Indeed there must be a cost to creation.

Most of the royals have their cocks strapped in by the women who sold them lambs and later their bodies and wombs, But with a wife at home who is trying for the third time this month. But she has lain with afew maids who draw her baths.

Whereas the bastards know all the truths but will lie intentionally, For they too are gambling so is the rest of the world, wondering whether they are of the royal blood.


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