History Blues

The breath of life to you was gifted
To bare the songs of kins
To be the guide of those adrifted
And milk their minds and souls to cringe
Young ears do taint with truth and woe
Cut loose thy tongue, be wild, be free
Let blood be treasured than pure gold
So fruit would grow upon thy tree
Take heed the cries of voiceless bones
Don’t cage them in your heart
Find ink to write upon a stone
Atone the souls now in the dark
And when your day is come at last
Capture time so you won’t past
A sonnet written for a Shakespearean Class by LeQuita C. Harrison
(c) All Rights Reserved. 2015
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