I’m so weak for sonnets. Here’s my other one (probably the better of the two.)
if you must know, I’m worried about lots:
I can’t tell if these words are helping me.
I’ve been in some pretty laughable spots
and I’ve never been freed by poetry.
people ask me “can I read what you’ve writ?”
and before I can correct their grammar
they’ve noticed that it’s all just angsty shit
“it’s, um, ‘written,’ not ‘writ,'” I stammer.
but you took no for an answer, my friend,
you didn’t press on – and for this, for you
I have a certain prize, a certain end
to show you my appreciation true:
next time I’m angry and writing a piece,
if it’s about you, I’ll desist and cease.