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Charlie was a chemist,
But Charlie is no more.
For what he thought was H2O,
Was H2SO4.
To write a sonnet you must ruthlessly
strip down your words to naked, willing flesh.
Then bind them to a metaphor or three,
and take by force a satisfying mesh.
Arrange them to your will, each foot in place.
You are the master here, and they the slaves.
Now whip them to maintain a constant pace
and rhythm as they stand in even staves.
A word that strikes no pl
🔋 -- 🐛 -- 👔 -- 🎈 -- 📀 -- 📕 -- 👃 -- 📗 -- 📘 -- 👹 -- 🚙 -- 🎁 -- 🐟 -- 🥗 -- ⚡