Oh, Will I Sing a Verse not yet Composed

A sonnet about losing identity in this world, in the union of English and Petrachian Form

Oh, will I sing a verse not yet composed
or am I forced to drone with all the rest,
although crass sounds can slay complacency,
and will I think a thought not yet supposed
or am I doomed to numb as others jest,
for those musings can slay that normalcy?

Mankind deserves originality
although crowds love the similarity,
so should the crowd, the one combined with all,
receive that which remains after the fall,
or should mankind, 'gainst whom the crowd e'er fights,
receive its liberities and fated rights.

To side with one creates a rift 'tween two
and complicates the war 'tween we and you.