Scoundrels (Shakesperian sonnet)
Scoundrels, today, everyday we find
Ourselves labeled unproductive leaches
Estranged from kin, strangers to the kind
Embraces of virtue's warming reaches.
Left out and forced to travel unknown roads
Blindly gropes for familiar mooring
Adrift and resentful he finds new modes.
His distance, the loner finds alluring.
Fallen but gathered like November's leaves
Face to face with the anguish of choice
To be or not, on lives what one believes
And creates each day through discord their voice.
Company alone is reason enough
To stop posing as decisive and tough.
Two feedbacks: https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/4p2hou/unlover/ https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/4p5r9w/dolphins/
Posted Jun 21, 2016, 6:19 PM UTC
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