Sonnet 01
Shall I compare thee to a piece of steel?
Thou art more cold and distant than metal
Thy bitter feelings seem fake and unreal
When mad, thou boileth like a hot kettle
Thy face is a mirror of deep sadness
Thy emotions I cannot comprehend
Thou driveth me into profound madness
Your severed mind I endeavor to mend
Thy face, though beautiful, is cruel not pure
Thy voice, like a melancholy singer
This illness, best medicine cannot cure
The feeling of this, will always linger
Thy sweet, merry soul, is locked inside a drawer
Thy eyes shineth and gloweth nevermore.
Qi
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