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English sonnet Stories

english sonnet

It's late at night and still the music throbsInto the halls and empty rooms of grief. She plays it loud enough to drown her sobs. Because I must leave soon I make it brief. The end is often longer than the start When something pure has spoiled and turned so bad. Without good reason she has grown apart And this is why my wife has left me sad. My soul is still within her heart it's true But she has left me long ago in dream...