Sonnet 12


I wearied like a turmoil shroud,
Far from soothing voices.
My mind was darkened by a cloud
That left me with few choices;

One to leave and sever hope,
Never to return to life.
Something weak within would grope
And say farewell to ceaseless strife.

The other was to persevere,
To greet each coming day anew.
Endeavour to become sincere
And let my eager heart pursue ~

~the dreams I held to be forlorn
Within my sustenance were born.