Being petty

I picked up Shakespeare’s sonnets from my shelf, as one does, as I passed I had to, I was thinking on you

Lacking your honey voice, I was out for some magic, or tech, or some drug, to stand in for you, cause im red hot and blue

Well, picking it up, Shakespeare’s contention fell thru, my love is selfish, and I a flamingo in dance, head high, arse out and

Strut, jealous of every little petty ninnie thing I can pick out, not really a poet, a junkie, chasing the dragon but

In spectacles homing in, drawing you and I from a book, of which not one comparison could compare you in your way,

I draw a pattern of my pettiness over you, in comparison to, Shakespeare but seems a cheap substitute