“Only in suffering do we recognise beauty.” – Proust
Only in pain, do we find clarity.
Through torture, who can we truly depend?
They’re all demons. Do we want charity?
Villains, foes, family, does the list end?
Angels take cover in the deep abyss.
Waiting for us to call; to see the truth.
Our guardians protect us with their kiss.
Lover’s eyes are gentle beacons which sooth
temperate storms. They ignite peace in souls.
They tame the beast and pacify evils.
Lovers defend us. They fill the dead holes.
They fight our little worries-our Weevils.
Lovers hear our screams. They’re our protection.
We can’t fight our most welcome infection.
This is my first attempt at a sonnet. Well, I say sonnet, it’s not in iambic parametre, which I’ve never had any grasp on. I tried to stick to the rhyme scheme though. Let me know your thoughts and give me your interpretations of this poem.