Barefoot

UGH, Sonnet, I HATE YOU. I'm so terrible at fixed-form poetry, but a poetry group I belong to convinced me <a ref="http://my.deviantart.com/messages/#/d59gy0a">it was time to have another go at a sonnet</a>, so here I am.

I think generally I did pretty well. Except for all the places I didn't....SONNETS ARE HARD. Gah, for me just getting rhyming and iambic pentameter was hard. RAWRAAWRAWR

Anyway...enjoy?

"Hold, Youth"

You are verging on knife edges, wild youth:
The pricking of the blade in your bare steps
Marks trees of paper cuts, spells out the truth
that like lime juice keeps the wounds fresh -

You're not yet the person you'll want to be,
And that boy 'cross the room for whom you long,
Wild youth, will swallow you down like sweet tea;
You must feel your bones curled 'round, and all wrong.

Tightrope walker, do not let yourself slide -
Sense the vice-fear like spikes beneath your skin;
Use them well, cliff-walker, toughen your hide,
cling still to the walls, hide even from winds.

Hold - hold, for a boy who shall not, Grendel-
like, crush you warm and wet, small and spindle'd.