Shakespeare, ace of the appalling art,
With horror’s touch, you played your part.
In Macbeth’s castle, fear dwells,
Where the witches weave their evil spells.

The apparition of Hamlet’s father, hauntingly pale,
Sets the arrange for an awful, wrathful tale.
Othello’s envy, a dangerous flame,
Consuming all within the Moor’s dull name.

In Julius Caesar’s ridiculous fate,
A scheme fixed with tricky hate.
King Lear, in franticness, loses his way,
A kingdom in chaos, a nightmarish display.

Shakespeare, you wove these repulsions deep,
In each word, your insider facts are kept.
Your stories of haziness, still endure,
A confirmation to your ageless allure.

In your plays, we discover the thrill,
Of horror’s control to stun and chill.
For in your words, we’re until the end of time bound,
To the repulsions in which your stories are found.

So, Shakespeare, we raise our voice,
In wonderment of your dim, lovely choice.
For horror’s profundities, you challenged to explore,
And in your works, we until the end of time worship.