Shakespearean sonnet
Shakespearean sonnet
THE PAINTING
It looked
majestic, different from usual
Like a breath of
fresh air, pulling me in
It took my savings
and a ritual.
For just a
painting, it felt like a sin
On the wall, it
hung, in front of my bed
A woman whose
beauty I can’t forget.
Seduced I was by
the lady in red.
Something so
toxic, like a minor threat
The burning ember,
doused by a cold fire.
As the woman
slithered out the painting
Crawling towards
me, with a face so ire
I can feel myself
slowly succumbing.
Was all that just
a dream? It felt so real.
But why can I see
my body from here?
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