Sonnet #1
This is a sonnet I wrote. It follows the whole pattern thing but its uhm...interesting. I know what its about, but what you think is up to you.
Prepare for odd interpretation.
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A life. A love. A punchbowl full of pain.
The clock ticks slowly. A river flows.
Emotion tornado, brings forward rain.
Tiny and wrinkled, Old Man Air still blows.

Confused and unready to face the light,
Washing her dagger blade covered in blood.
She released her dragon,destroying fright.
Rushing in the gardens, she stepped in mud.

The old man stood still, confronting the storm.
She rushed him off guard. He cradled his bow,
Knocking his arrow ready to deform.
She crushed his powers, with one mighty blow.

Weeping is weakness, only when your strong;
But when you are lesser, it's never wrong.