Venom in wretched hearts doth flow,
Poisoning the mind, the body, the soul.
Sinking yellowed claws, they refuse to let go,
Dragging us down into blackened hole.
.
Choosing to wallow in pity, our woeful state,
Winding path we refuse to veer.
Preferring to traipse the same abject fate,
As if it were something we held so dear.
.
Nay–this is not how we were created,
With sorrow and fear to guide our way.
This truth could never be overstated,
If we change with the dawn of another day.
.
Pessimism serves none, but the weakest of spirit,
But optimism doth breed success to those that will hear it.
.
~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~
Dom DiFrancesco 
The imagery gave me chills. Love the final two lines because they’re so true.
Thank you Charles, I do find this true is so many people.
Absolutely.
Thank you Ionia. :)
Reblogged this on By the Mighty Mumford and commented:
WHOO-WHEE!!!!! THE MAN DOES A WICKED GOOD SONNET!!!!!
Thank you so much Jonathan, I appreciate the re-blog very much.
You do this so much better than I…I’m a “simple” man who sticks with limericks! :)
This has a real Romantic-Era feel to it … awesome!!!! :)
Muchas Gracias. :)
Yes, you doth writeth a wicked sonnet:) and this one certainly has some bit to it:) I believe i can feel it in my bakeside:)
It certainly doth biteth. :)