SHAKESPEARE

This fellow dead writer

How he made my heart ache

I saw his characters

Surrounding my bed

At strange night time

Their deem gloom eyes

Freaking me with pale

Grave impression

But should not i chicken

For if i do, tomorrow, i’ll

Set his loads on fire

I’ve seen his horses

Great strong gallopers
With sure, they moved

And stomped my head

Mounted, his made up

Knights enveloped in

Vicious winds and mist

Swiftly kicking the earth

And
Calling“Attack–attack,

whoever not born of woman

shall die tonight”

His evils, his heroes

His masqurade comrades

His pen and papers

And his brain, filthy and clean

At once–how can that be?

For he called God, He called

The devil and say, hey two felloz

Give me moves, I've seen

I've felt, I've known

And i must confess