My Hidden Voice (A sonnet)

I wrote this for a class assignment, but it turned out alright, and thought I should post it here


Indeed, it is quite a story
The pen being my will
And the words claiming its territory
A soon to be worldwide thrill
The ink to paper gives me a voice
For I do not speak ever so often
And it gives me the rejoice
It speaks silently, giving me a safe haven
Like the painter and the brush
I cannot go about without my pen and paper
My mind being like a 'lone thornbush
That voice disappearing like vapor
Though safe, and comfortable, it leaves me unheard
Linger too much, and I become a soundless songbird

Seizure

My little girl, her eyes went blank
She turned stiff, then violently shook
Her eyes disappeared
And her voice muffled

Her head hit the ground
Her fingers crooked
What a sight with cruel eyes
To watch, to fear

Yet, no help was called
Holding her tight around my arms
As she violently shook, and cuts me
As she struggled and seized to breathe

Cold air swept over me
Holding, the contorted and lifeless body
I cried for my grief
But laughed for the sake of my insanity

Therefore my mindless body
Will begin to rot
With a kiss of cyanide
Killing off the insanity

My little girl, stunning marble eyes
Delicate, rare, full of life
Now buried with raw flesh
With diluted water and poison