Tired with all of these, for restful death I cry...
Sonnet 66Tired with all these, for restful death I cry,
As, to behold desert a beggar born, And needy nothing trimm'd in jollity, And purest faith unhappily forsworn, And guilded honour shamefully misplaced, And maiden virtue rudely strumpeted, And right perfection wrongfully disgraced, And strength by limping sway disabled, And art made tongue-tied by authority, And folly doctor-like controlling skill, And simple truth miscall'd simplicity, And captive good attending captain ill: Tired with all these, from these would I be gone, Save that, to die, I leave my love alone. |
Buy and Download...Click HERE
|
I’m sick of all of this, I wish I were dead. Seeing deserving people born into poverty, wasteful rich people decked in fancy clothes, purest vows broken, honours bestowed to the grossly undeserving, chaste girls turned whores, righteous people slandered, strong
people made powerless by ineffectual people in power, artistry censored, idiots telling skilled people what to do, plain truth labelled stupidity. Everything good is being made subservient to everything bad.
I’m so sick of it, I’d just like to leave it all behind and die – except that would mean I’d have to leave my love behind.
people made powerless by ineffectual people in power, artistry censored, idiots telling skilled people what to do, plain truth labelled stupidity. Everything good is being made subservient to everything bad.
I’m so sick of it, I’d just like to leave it all behind and die – except that would mean I’d have to leave my love behind.