Sonnet 465

November 24, 2008
By Brooke Prince, Randallstown, MD

Sonnet 465
Excruciating, thrusting inside me,
Extreme compression forcing to the floor.
Fog intensifying; I cannot see,
The squeezing, Stop! I can’t take it anymore.
Now things have changed, life has become a bore:
Strength, Optimism slowly leave my thoughts
Hopes and dreams shattered; goals are nevermore.
All is lost, everything I ever sought.
August sixth, what possibly could I’ve caught.
Is it a virus or a plaguing illness?
Maybe if I had the strength, if I’d fought
Rather than win, I’m stuck with this sickness.
A cloud of darkness, facing an abyss
Help me get back! Because it’s Brooke I miss.

The author's comments:
465 is not a random number chosen for my title. In fact, it is rather significant and adds much to the sonnet. 465 was equivalent to the amount of days that I had been struggling with my sickness so far on the day I wrote it.

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