2018 Sonnet 47

A sonnet, maybe fiction, maybe fact.
Without a touch of both it cannot be.
Is it sincere, or is it just an act?
It’s neither! It’s a poem! Can’t you see?

The words that fit might stretch credibility.
They might be smuggling facts into the mix.
The words themselves have the agility
To hide the lie, reveal the truth and fix

Our minds on tangled twine and worthless puzzles,
Trying to uncover what it’s saying.
Are these thoughts or just emotion muzzles?
Those take too much work. This is just playing.

I wouldn’t have to make words dance this way
If I had something serious to say.

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