a poor sonnet

Don't think too far ahead, don't dream too big.
Sober up your brain cells, make high hopes lead.
Sugar-sweet words will snap you like a twig.
Mountains like clouds are best left in bed.

And I shouldn't think of you, shouldn't I?
Shouldn't expect you sweeping through the door.
Trick of the eye, dismissing with a sigh,
stark sounds at night I'm convinced are your snore.

Well I'm in for some trouble, aren't I?
I have a pisces head, watery wet
that pictures a bright, big, tangerine sky,
pulling close, star-filled eyes I've never met.

I follow rules, think what they tell me to,
Except, I guess, when it comes to you.

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