Sonnet I
The nights of old darkened
The skies of yorn are dim
And the darkness harkened
A foulness of wretched kin
With eyes of widened breadth
And lips that no man sees
A mind that schemes death
And brings all men to their knees
It is but a muscle in reality
But the emotions it creates are sin
It is deceitful above all anonimity
It is the heart within
Deep, dark conniving
Quick, slick contriving
- Samuel Raisesworde
