Sonnet 1

Alas! ‘t Is true – for those who weave a web
of words to catch the content of their heart:
‘t is prevalence of pain that sets them ‘part;
(since they cannot blow away the cobweb

of melancholy in their restless minds.)
For hours they ruminate on past events
to find the missing link, where their life bent
towards the wrong direction, for fate blinds

the brightest even more severe. Somehow
‘t is they who try to temper truth into
the language of the muse that are destined

to sing of sorrow, and e’er disallow
a gaiety of spirit – for it’s true
that happy and creative ne’er really rhyme

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