I must say I think that is very good, the more so since I have a sonnet of my own, strong (if I may say so) in phraseology, but the teeniest bit weak in argument. Revisions gratefully accepted. As Martin says, there's plenty of time.
Bout Rimes
Unfazed and resolutely undepressed,
I leave the smoking ruins to the rain.
I can’t deny it’s something of a strain.
What’s rubble now was once our little nest.
We anchored in the Islands of the Blest
Before Misfortune forged his heavy chain.
It batters like a hammer in my brain
And grants me neither remedy nor rest.
I feel it in my bones, the bitter blast,
The wailing winds of withering and wilt,
The encroaching night that cancels out the day,
The chaos that unbuilds what once was built,
The serpent present swallowing up the past,
The guttering grave where once our future lay.
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