Never was I called the artistic type;
My talents lay in logical debate;
Creativity served not in my life;
Any expressive works were clearly fake:
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Then I met you and your many interests;
Poetry, art, the beauty of language,
To master this tongue is now my true wish;
No longer will this side of me languish:
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Pen to paper, really finger to key,
For the emotions flow onto the screen;
Poems galore, sonnets specifically,
Through these, off your great grace my heart may ween:
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The cracks in my soul shall last till I'm old,
But through the arts they may be filled with gold.
YOU ARE READING
Shackled Sonnets: A Collection of Poems
PoetryA collection of sonnets about that which I shall never have. A girl I love, but she loves another. I have only recently been reading and writing poetry because of her, so hopefully, my writing will get better as time goes on. Check back for a new so...
