Least Read Sonnet Poems

Finding myself in the fire, I seethe.
Roasting under the breath of your harsh words.
You are suppressing me; I cannot breathe.
Smoke fills my lungs, my deliverance slurred.

Long gone is the compassion I once felt.
I have been left here with horror and fear.
Asking for assistance, I remain knelt.
Can my voice carry any favor here?

Like the phoenix, I rise from the ashes!
Demanding that you look into my eyes
as my talons engrave you with gashes.
I free myself from your prison of lies!

Spanning my wings, floating...

He carries round his window cleaning gear
whistling some well known bohemian air,
wears gold earrings, (street cred' is now so dear,)
and runs up ladders like his bedroom stairs.

Tanned and sleek, full of self-confident wealth,
he growls, '' you're next !"  (in hope to hear a purr?)
rippling muscles, bouncing around with health,
with a chest full of lush, gorilla, fur...

He cleans windows like an athletic cat
stalks those streets, an animal on the hunt,
but I know the repertoire, all the chat,
and the sleazy way he says...