Sonnet on Complain and Suggestion
What makes-mean to whom my solitary,
Who don't face it ,that I encounter,
In every day I die in thousands poetry,
Where who don't care about this shouter.
Wish! I live, die in a moment-mere
That put-on blanket of white-pleasure,
But what the means of this tear
That who haven't weap time-leisure.
Everywhere seek no find,no words,
Express in this I'm feeling solitude,
Interpretion hide in event weirds
Reveal that ,don't care about multitude.
What care about world if this mild,
Live in it,it's my thoughts wild.
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