The Farting Dine

I couldn't resist. This is a Shakespearean sonnet about farting

The farting dine on simple times, and see?
Though trapped in waves of gas and having life
The one who fell, injurious hell, me
Don't ask me why, the smell so sharp, like knife

I can't see, my heart tells me, and so wanes
My knees, they buckle Watch me as I sit
It's steaming up my silly window panes
Shakespeare himself would gasp to share his wit

The farting dine on simple times, and look
It appears the wind hath mixt in with thee
Fart on air tastes like pages in a book
Oh, why won't you just fart and let me be?

I see that look in your eye, my dear friend
This farting every day will be my end