A Sonnet By An ''Other''

Like Frankenstein, I, too, am loathed to death; I walk this earth devoid of friend and hearth, devoid of joy from the time of my birth and from the first draw of my infant's breath. An outcast and a pariah among the friended, I exist without the mirth and bliss of those born of more ample worth, esteem, and prize,—O would that I belong! Still, I am loved of my dear family and most scarce friends, my books, and by my God, and my most oft-read, soothing Poetry. These things I treasure, honor, and so laud with gratitude and thanks abundantly, and so am glad like worms in blesséd sod. **Nota Bene! Revised version immediately below of above sonnet: Like an outcast despised, I flee the heath; devoid of friend and mirth, I trek this earth and dwell alone from the time of my birth almost from my first draw of infant's breath. Unloved, without the world's shared shibboleth, I am the face of tragedy, when hearth and friendship's company withhold their worth, closeness, esteem, and trust until my death. But I still am loved by dear family, and by my Rose, a blesséd gift from God; whom, along with my oft-read poetry, I treasure, honor, and so highly laud. Though forever estranged in this country, I still thus am glad like a frail seed in sod. © Ngoc M. Nguyen. All rights reserved. Updated 23 April 2023