• I wish a solemn prayer,
    That I was born armor.
    Blood-like tempest and adamant chrome,
    Comfort my known master.
    Magnificent bird of Hermes.
    Give not precious items,
    Counseling me on individual worth.
    Mattering not to me,
    Useless items surrounding,
    All a silly same.

    But grant me one,
    Whom gives me reason.
    A lively purpose,
    Written in codes by invisible ink.
    Whom ushers in unstable emotions.
    Like fire spreading on top ice water.
    Trading comfort for protection.
    Let the reason be profound,
    When arbitrary decay washes onshore,
    Proving its wisdom.

    Yet granting me one taste,
    Making savor the nicotine,
    Where my mind proves,
    Paradise within.
    Grant me something worth guarding.
    With truest of moments
    And undeniable anticipation.
    This real life sonnet,
    That my arms may spread over,
    Encasing blunt truth.