Sonnet

I am sorrowful that I have provoked you in jest

And shown disrespect for our love consummated

My arrogance, my judgement, I should give rest

And contemplate my goodness you have instigated.

Yet I struggle, my qualities you vividly perceive

Is the challenge for me to lift my lowly game

It’s not you, but myself that I deceive

My plea for patience comes across as inane.

Time to turn my sorrow into personal growth

And rewrite myself, and my disguised history

Turn myself around and promise a new oath

And be open with myself and dispel all mystery.

  Be that it may, some guidance may be required

   And in me, I sense something quite uninspired.

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