Sonnet 63

[mrevileggplant]

I've pulled a muscle once or twice, you see
It never seems to take a week to heal
When all this verse that cries catastrophe
reads foreign, I do not believe them real

There is no bruise that ice cannot relieve
A tumbler full, with bourbon works a charm
then skip the steps, there’s nothing gone to grieve
who’s ever heard a sprain could do one harm?

So far ahead from where the race began,
with callous thick upon our history
We try to not keep score as best we can
to pledge ourselves to bolder victory

I’m lost, I’m sore, still nowhere finished yet
the reconditioned self stands stronger set