Day 14: Write a sonnet. Get it? 'Cause a sonnet has 14 lines. Ehhh? Ehhh?
Under new management: They've torn down the walls,
they've made it just one large, beating chamber.
While I wait for mine to stop, an inner voice calls
to tell me that she's gone, no longer a remainder.
A cage lifted? Too grand a cliche, I fear,
though the weight feels to have lightened.
But it returns, and while the reason isn't clear,
I can tell the heart's noose has been tightened.
A quick search leaves little to the imagination,
an easy mystery solved, for all to plainly see,
but tell me: Is this only my creation?
Or will there be someone staring back at me?
My only hope is to take this where it goes.
A sudden drop? A feathery step? Only she knows.
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Playing on my iTunes at this very moment:
Modest Mouse, Bury Me With It
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