Sonnet XVII
A place where only brave men dare to go,
A weaker man so surely crushed by fear.
Why is your aura terrifying so
To make so many wary to go near?
So much to sacrifice to use your seat:
Our pride, our smell, or cushy wooden chair.
The strong desire to simply be discrete,
No obstacle too large for those who dare.
And in a time of weakness, of demise
No other options present in the world
The struggle oh so painful, grand in size
Entire body hurt, cheeks clenched, toes curled
Your arms fling open wide, a welcomed feel
Allowing sweet release, a love so real.
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voodoo, this is disturbing.
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