Sonnet 79, If You Repeat Yourself Poem by Peter S. Quinn

If you repeat yourself, words become dull,
Only emptiness without any reason;
And every sentence, just fluffy and null,
It's to good poetry, - lust and treason.
If words don't fly twisted from a soul within,
And content is there to answer you not;
Fly to the horizon, - edge of the spin,
Giving of your soul and all you have got.
Never be with posies, withering soon,
Going to no oceans, between a line;
Dying before you, - have them ready, flowers,
Like everything else that aspires in June.
Diverse moods you must conquer and refine,
Poet is the wizard, whose words empowers.