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The Accursed Sonnet

'Tis but no blur, thus a reality
Lest we find a cruel existance-
This is but a whim, a ghastly stench..
Oh! how dothe it find my heart.
It hath scathed and dulled my senses
Aye! I hath a lust so pure.
I lay annon for the morrow ist neareth.
The flask lay dry

Author notes

This one's pretty bad.

A contest entry

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Comments

  • Bapudi
    May 26, 2007

    Edit | Reply

    wow

    Wow, I'm impressed. A sonnet. The pseudo-Shakespearean language, along with the awkwardness of the first line, make it a contender.


  • DancingShadowCorpse
    May 26, 2007

    Edit | Reply
    It actually isnt really bad.. it sounds like you have drank yourself into regret of having drank at all. Its rather good I think!