Secret Sonnet #12

Do you finally get it, darling mine?
I contain multitudes like Walt Whitman.
I'm not a used-up workhorse you consign
To a dogfood fate in a small tin can.
Your scolding society mistook me
For an easy mark. The she-parasite
Thought I could be destroyed so handily -
She built the pyre, you set it alight.
You must have laughed at my immolation
But sociopaths no empathy feel.
The skank surely jigged in celebration
For all the happiness that she could steal.
Mrs. Ho must find it most surprising
To see the Phoenix in glory rising.

phoenix

This sonnet references Walt Whitman's "Song of Myself"

Listener up there! what have you to confide to me?
Look in my face while I snuff the sidle of evening,
(Talk honestly, no one else hears you, and I stay only a minute longer.)

Do I contradict myself?
Very well then I contradict myself,
(I am large, I contain multitudes.)