Sonnet 11

A place forbidden is a place of lust
Where minds are climbing to remain as free
As endless fights with sorrow and disgust
Throw shivers quickly through a frozen sea.
The stalk of soul is writing down a line
And then it flickers like those stars in gloom,
But there's no ink to measure and assign
Whenever hearts are dying or in bloom.
We are what we have written, and so on
The words are lies or truth. In every case
Themselves are playing with the beams of dawn
As bleeding depths are red from top to base.
They didn't know why life is not for sure
A world beyond salvation without cure.