The spurned will always grope for happiness
And compensate their lacking with their tears.
Their cries are empty, fallen, desolate;
Their cheerless plight will fall on deadened ears.
Our sightlessness is blinding avarice.
While others writhe in dismal pain,
We smile – on purpose! - gladly ignorant.
Indeed, lethargy is our disdain.
We shed our tears and drink them, desperate.
Our fears, we swallow as our daily bread.
For no one sees our lacrimosity.
Our anguished agony upon our heads,
The spurned will scream their names to deadened air.
And echoes mock them, beckoning despair.
365 Sonnets is completed! While there be no more new posts, feel free to read the sonnets and comment! :)
You can read my new poetry at Some Turbid Night: http://someturbidnight.blogspot.ca/ :)
- Sonnet XXXII
- Sonnet XXXIII
- Sonnet XXXIV
- Sonnet XXXV
- Sonnet XXXVI
- Sonnet XXXVII
- Sonnet XXXVIII
- Sonnet XXXIX
- Sonnet XL
- Sonnet XLI
- Sonnet XLII
- Sonnet XLIII
- Sonnet XLIV
- Sonnet XLV
- Sonnet XLVI
- Sonnet XLVII
- Sonnet XLVIII
- Sonnet XLIX
- Sonnet L
- Sonnet LI
- Sonnet LII
- Sonnet LIII
- Sonnet LIV
- Sonnet LV
- Sonnet LVI
- Sonnet LVII
- Sonnet LVIII
- Sonnet LIX
- Sonnet LX
- ▼ February 2008 (29)
- ► 2009 (14)
- ► 2010 (16)