A rare attempt at a traditional poem structure and formal rhyme scheme.
Milk and Sonnets
There is sometimes, somewhere inside me,
a creature that likes to writhe and burn.
It’s tough to force it to obey me,
whatever I teach, it just won’t learn.
This life likes to flint its fire,
scratch with hot nails to make it scream.
A strangled beast in a lava mire,
spitting and screaming to be seen.
I have to find the cream to cleanse it,
soothe parched skin with milk and air.
Dampen its burning and then release it,
drag it from its scabby lair.
Hate it or love it, I’m forever its slave,
Only when released will it ever behave.
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