Revised sonnet #494
His mum hates my hobby holds it hobbles
Better should I labour long expire meek
His dad finds fault further senses sour streak
Bide I bite at lip legs lax in wobbles
Since Im privy now to petty squabbles
Him I note insulted slanderous tweak
Breathe I like me he is by them held freak
Like a cork at sea my brain thus 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 runny noses?
Rack and ratchet wrenched I feel right read wrong
Tortured turns too he in dodging dingdong
Chorus wrong error fault
