On the chill misty night of November.
The old man began his walk around the city.
Not very much on this world for him to remember.
For hours and miles he walks every night.
A metallic voice blocked his way home.
Asking why does he have to go for a walk.
On the moment he can not have the freedom of his own.
He was sent to the Psychiatric Center.
The sound of no sound doesn't sound right
Good effort!
ReplyDeleteYou must have spent a good deal of time fiddling with the rainbow effect for the lines...though you don't really need to do that sort of thing.
I think if you were to call this a "sonnet", ought it to have 14 lines?
I'd change the title to something else.