Literature
A Broken Sonnet Of The Past
I had a passion for divine rhymes, that I knew I had to chase it.
I had an issue, my compassion. The sole key; To embrace it.
See, I am a man of constant sorrow. I now knew I had to change it.
Sinister plans, often hollow. And I had to rearrange it.
I wasn't content in my own skin. In deep dejection and brainsick.
I was meant to be broken. My own reflection, I would hate it.
Dwelling inside devil's den. Living desolated and faceless.
Infested morbidly by misery. Losing every one of life's races.
Happiness seemed distant. But I knew I had to taste it.
Wasn't esteemed that instant. I wasn't hers. She had to erase it.
My love wasn't sufficient