Sonnet 3.

My Lady’s not a weak and gentle wind,
Nor every kind of breeze, nor drizzling rain;
Think her as one of those, and you have sinned!
For she’s the fiercest living hurricane.
With broken pieces of her shattered heart,
She continues to bravely move ahead;
From shaking grounds and tearing things apart,
To boldly ripping obstacles to shreds.
And those who says she’s weak, they must be blind;
For all they know are tales and idle talks,
And spreading falsehood with their unfilled mind;
Their worthless lips need to be sealed with locks!
            Do try to treat my dame with ridicule,
            She will make you look like an outright fool!




Even though I repeatedly said that you have small frame,
You are much stronger in carrying your emotions.
I don’t know how is it possible for you to carry
those awful emotions with those little shoulders of yours.
But It proves that what you look on the outside
isn’t the reflection of what you really are inside.


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