Sonnets

About The Book

Sophocles was seen with drinkLet all that be un beSophocles liked to thinkShed my tear on that weeMy poets in me like to inkIt really sets me freeAll we see is no to clinkWe are but threeTo my mother I digressShe's in heaven with a smileDearest put on that red dressI will take all whileWhat we do is no small messThis sonnet ends in tile
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