tone (a sonnet)

as if looking at you were not enough, my heart does skip a beat in time to you. when i beheld you i instantly knew, your love would make me your most treasured buff. for this cannot be love's truest hour, mere impulse is your specialty, my dear. seeing you with others makes me glower. my feelings are so real, do you not hear? oh this great, strenuous, entanglement. do tell me, when will i be free of it? Thou art to me a master of deceit. this untrue love can no longer augment, the trueness of your love is a mere whit. to go on with you would be my defeat.

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