Sonnet 18
bleh
t'announce to th'world of a coming of age
would be breath lost on the ears of the deaf.
appearance matters not t'an ancient sage,
assuaging th'blind in what they be bereft
No vision to see such an emptyness
required, but snout t'find an apples core
whose maggots now seek metamorphosis
in spite of the wax covered crimson's lore
Indeed, wax through bent sickle compass melt
for it too is wrapped in a mortal coil
age be not whom a dark maroon death delt
twas beelzebub's teeth denying th'soil
what come shall go through an insouciant haste
though strife-marked words may leave a long'r lasting taste
t'announce to th'world of a coming of age
would be breath lost on the ears of the deaf.
appearance matters not t'an ancient sage,
assuaging th'blind in what they be bereft
No vision to see such an emptyness
required, but snout t'find an apples core
whose maggots now seek metamorphosis
in spite of the wax covered crimson's lore
Indeed, wax through bent sickle compass melt
for it too is wrapped in a mortal coil
age be not whom a dark maroon death delt
twas beelzebub's teeth denying th'soil
what come shall go through an insouciant haste
though strife-marked words may leave a long'r lasting taste