Just happened to glance a pretty girl out there,
Bathed in tattoos, sitting in my bookstore.
I loved the way she looked, knew that i adore
That blouse, the chest, stuck sadly in her wheelchair.
Was it her fragility that made her fair?
Her curly hair complexed and tied trojan war,
A warrior on wheels, stare full of ignore,
Her name came to me in the air, it was Claire.
So unfair, a devastating joke from god.
Beautiful despair, her hand clutching the steel,
As she reads some more titles that came off odd.
A goddess, half man - half machine, you're ideal,
My heroine handicapped and neatly flawed.
Claire made me forgot my own Achilles' heel.
Don't even know if this fully counts as a syllabic Italian sonnet, but i think it does, so boom. there. Very basic but it's a start.