(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616 / Warwickshire)

Revenge

Tears the mind can't tell are true,
Pain the heart can't share.
Anger wrapped up in deceit,
It's more than I can bear.

The hurt and torture deep inside,
The scalding pain of hate.
The sadness deep inside my soul,
That anger did create.

The anger causes pain inside,
Too deep to understand.
And the pain, in turn, will cause,
More malice to my hand.

The scourge I lay upon you now,
You surely cannot break.
This curse will last for on and on,
You've made a grave mistake.

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Comments (3)

Perhaps as a natural continuation of the renunciation of the previous sonnet, or perhaps independently of it, the poet here reflects on his woeful state.
He is like a patient in a fever who has been declared by the physician to be past cure. All his thoughts and words are like those of madmen, and everything is uttered at random, without any coherence. His fever lends him words, and although he cannot explain his infatuation, he feels it to be wrong, and yet he is compelled to continue drinking and eating the same noxious food which brought on his disease in the first place. Hence there is no escape for him, and he sees himself trapped in the black vortex of hell in which his mistress resides, and there is no release from the darkness. http: //www.shakespeares-sonnets.com/
Awesome I like this poem, check mine out