Obsolet

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.