TOWNS GOWNS TURN BROWN
(A Petrachian Sonnet)

Go hint the Crown
As the shadow of those who cries
With tears that never dries
Speak thee for the town
That gowns are growing brown
And we’ve feasted enough on lies
And in sorrow all heads are down
Please make sure our passion never dies

Perhaps, we’ve chosen to all drink
From the ocean of love in peace
And we’ve all selflessly think
Maybe thrones would have bring bliss
And our souls may never sink
But rise in happiness that never will cease