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A Shakespearean Sonnet about a person with a scarred face and soul. |
| Amounting to nothing, heavy scarred face. Away from beauty, ne'er to be displayed. Myself, alone, I'm a hidden disgrace. A villain now labeled, seems I’ve been made. Innocent I claim but wretched I am. Hiding from the masses this face I wear; Scarred by horror, I’m but a tinker’s damn. Not fit for you, taken captive this snare. But who is to be better you or me? For in this solitude is rest and peace. I leave you to your vices to decree. In this world, my spirit, I will decrease. I have found it’s better to be without Then submit myself to the world throughout. Shakespearean Sonnet a-b-a-b, c-d-c-d, e-f-e-f, g-g |