3 Dimensional Interactive Movies

Revised sonnet #1252

Stuff that his mum sighs about me hobbles
When Im standing present paints me most meek
His dad finds fault further senses sour streak
Bide I biting lip my legs lilt lame in wobbles
Since Im privy now to petty squabbles
Him I note in murmur mild prepared pique
Breathe I like me he is by them held freak
Like a cork at sea my brain just bobbles
Scent they like the best is boring roses
What to wear I need to guess to narrow
Far from fine they fume to push my barrow
Wonder whats their rule on running noses?
Rack and ratchet wrenched I feel right read wrong
Tortured too turns he in dodging dingdong
Chorus wrong error fault