December 2016 entry for Kittiara's Contest
When asked about my Christmas gift
What was it that caused me such pain
It left my heart with a big rift
It left me with a lot of rain.
What kind of gift would do such things
What kind of gift would nearly kill
What kind of gift misery brings
What destroys its receiver's will?
The kind that kills relationships
Never to see them come again
The kind that brings only bad chips
It sees no smile on faces of men.
It is called heartbreak known so well
It plunges all men straight to hell.
Sonnet 14 lines iambic tetrameter