Sonnet

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It’s hard to write a sonnet
A blank piece of paper
With nothing to write on it
My options are becoming tapered
My ideas are disappearing
My mind starts to pout
And soon, I am panicking
Because time will run out
This entire concept is new
I don’t know how to begin
In my head, no thoughts go through
Because of this racket and din
There are just too many rhymes
To do at this time.





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