Sonnet 3

Supposedly, these are the vivid times
Supposedly, these are the flares of life.
But now, longed dreams keep me bottled like wines.
Wine of mine unable to play a fife.

Wine of mine that's been contaminated.
Wine of mine holding onto a dull cork.
Even if mixed with others and waited
An era of life, it would be like pork.

When will my longing be opened by hands,
Hands that give life and fulfill my desires.
To taste the freedom, from all life's demands,
And watch my dreams ascend like soaring spires.

So let us break these bindings, let them go,
And watch our dreams in full, triumphant show.

--Kendrick L., 9th-12th Grade