Paraphrase Sonnet 29
When I find myself thinking how I am poor with no riches
I pout for myself because I have naught what makes a man a man
I pray to heaven but heaven does not hear me
So I hate myself
I silently wish I was one of those rich
Wishing I looked like the man with unmistakable beauty and friends who acknowledge him
I hate myself for thinking these thoughts
But when I think of you and my melancholy drifts away
I then sing to the heavens for your unconditional love
And I would not change that even for the most riches
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