sonnet I trust things from

I trust from time to time things turned out bung
Youd rather chat not voicemail beep a cheep
On stilted words you wont sigh sob or weep
Its known years how youre normally high strung
Those childish clan feuds onto which youve clung
They figure burs and briars at lovers leap
Night hidden ivy wet unseen stuff steep
Your sadness builtin right on bottom rung
I see you someone servile so I ache
I wont hang wreathelike wrapped around his neck
I wish you bliss I bet youd best do beck
Tomorrow on Ill face down friendship fake
Ive got you on your mans phone worst of luck
If weaklings wed unaware whom will you shuck?
Chorus luck chance fortune