Shakespeare Hates Your Emo Poems
Shakespeare hates me.
Honestly. He does.
“How artfully thine has twisted
how skillfully thine has polluted my tongue,
and blistered and boiled with an articulate witch's brew,
what I wielded like an ink-soaked (albeit feminine) sword!”
Yes, Willy, I cuss like I use toothpaste.
Don't hate me.
“I am amused by the sinful way I am a
I am no one's back-alley knitting partner –
I am a man!
Who are thee to deny me my craft?
Sweet vermin maid, I left my Anne more than the bed.”
Oh, Bill! Seriously.
I'm a wayward daughter seeking approval.
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