An english sonnet with Poenish influences.
Obsolet
Letters upon
letters in the book
I can’t describe
this pain I feel
As if I’m
gripped by a giant hook
Flesh pierced so
easily by hot steel.
Ancient wounds
that hurt and took
So much time to
scar and heal
Once again bleed
like a lazy brook,
Red running
waters of sickness and ill.
Words under
words, I dig the paper
For lucid
thoughts that I can save
Or a heart of
gold that makes me brave.
Again that
courage turns in to vapor
To later fuse in
an ocean wave
To later
sprinkle my empty grave.
