I would venture to say the entire idea

of a sonnet is a rather ridiculous thing.

The very thought of being boxed in a genre

is enough to make any creative man scream.

So try as one may to confine what they’re feeling

to the shackles of inhibiting rhythms and rhymes,

most will find themselves frantically fleeing

from the boundaries of these stifling 14 lines.

To the poetry instructors from every nation:

please attempt to grasp this. I’m trying so hard

to convey this emotion in strict rhythmic formation.

Can’t you see that these rules may as well just be bars!

And the truly ridiculous thing I must add;

Is that my sonnet is actually not half bad.