I know and I know;

I shalt be in sorrow.

But, darling, don’t be mislead,

my sorrow isn’t that bad.

It’s nothing like venom or poison,

not black, nor dark;

not abstract, yet not concrete,

but I know it’s there.

Feelings, senses, emotions, you name it.

Beware, thou might be influenced,

and, for many reasons, shalt taste my sorrow.

It is nothing like the previous lines have mentioned,

but thou wilt not afford its pain.

I know and I know;

I shalt be in sorrow.

I kindly address thy highness, sorrow.

Be kind, merciful, and less cruel.

Don’t leave a gap in my life that I can’t bridge nor fly upon.

I reckon you are part of who I am,

but haste not and be wise.

Those who hasted had their souls stuck by the throat.

I know and I know;

I shalt be in sorrow.

I approach thee to be my friend, saviour, God-like figurative hero.

If I am to describe thee, I wouldn’t do you justice.

Let thy deeds be judge and these lines be wishes.

I fancy thee and I know thy pain like the back of my hand.

M’lord, sorrow, I bend to your will;

I reckon I am a prisoner of my own wishes

and I beg you not to taint them.

Please, sorrow, leave them be and Let us come to terms for we are one.