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Sonnet for Death

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When is the hour, and who draws the line
And when will we know that it's passed?
That it stops being wrong, and it starts being fine
For us to leave the world at last
When a child becomes old, and their time runs out
Or the youngest of hundred year olds
Is there ever a due date beyond all our doubt
When life can release its last hold?
Is it all in the eyes of those left behind?
But what if there's no one to leave?
Or is it God's will, so eternally kind?
But what if you've never believed?
What does it matter, so long as your last breath
Leaves your body as you die a most dignified death?
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c
compulsive liar.
once i asked you your favourite colour, and you said, "the brown of your eyes," so i put in one green contact and told everyone that i came out of the womb as a factory defect, half-priced, damaged goods. - sometimes i am from canada and sometimes i am from england and sometimes i am from spain. i've carefully tempered my accents and plotted out my stories with yellow and purple coloured pencils on index cards. my origin changes like the seasons. "why do you lie to everyone?" you ask. "why not?" i reply. - i wear nametags that read "alicia" and "liana" and "samantha," because i want to know how it feels to be someon
d
demonlogy
           remember remember                        the whispers of november -                      but wait, this isn't a revolution                                 it's not even a rebellion                            your white flag doesn't drop anything but morale                                            the one man army of nothing               staggered steps and dried tongues,                        cracked lips begging for Legion                                           for we are many                                   and the Unnamed is just many of our names                          heavy heart and lightened shoulder
D
Deux-piece
i gave my heart to a crocodile but he used it as a toothpick so i took it back and gave it to Charlie Chaplin but he kept playing the dictator so i took it back and gave it to Houdini but he'd make it disappear every morn so i took it back and gave it to the Beatles but they threw it to their lunatic fans so i took it back and gave it to my chest but it was dark and bloody in there so i took it back and gave it to You, my Unloneliness, to stuff it next to yours - i heard from your veins there's room enough for Two in your rib cage.
© 2012 - 2019 resiliantpewter
Written for a school project about the movie Wit (2009)

Not quite satisfied but, for once, it rhymes... the iambic rhythm is off though, for a strict sonnet...
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c
compulsive liar.
once i asked you your favourite colour, and you said, "the brown of your eyes," so i put in one green contact and told everyone that i came out of the womb as a factory defect, half-priced, damaged goods. - sometimes i am from canada and sometimes i am from england and sometimes i am from spain. i've carefully tempered my accents and plotted out my stories with yellow and purple coloured pencils on index cards. my origin changes like the seasons. "why do you lie to everyone?" you ask. "why not?" i reply. - i wear nametags that read "alicia" and "liana" and "samantha," because i want to know how it feels to be someon
d
demonlogy
           remember remember                        the whispers of november -                      but wait, this isn't a revolution                                 it's not even a rebellion                            your white flag doesn't drop anything but morale                                            the one man army of nothing               staggered steps and dried tongues,                        cracked lips begging for Legion                                           for we are many                                   and the Unnamed is just many of our names                          heavy heart and lightened shoulder
D
Deux-piece
i gave my heart to a crocodile but he used it as a toothpick so i took it back and gave it to Charlie Chaplin but he kept playing the dictator so i took it back and gave it to Houdini but he'd make it disappear every morn so i took it back and gave it to the Beatles but they threw it to their lunatic fans so i took it back and gave it to my chest but it was dark and bloody in there so i took it back and gave it to You, my Unloneliness, to stuff it next to yours - i heard from your veins there's room enough for Two in your rib cage.
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