Surely, you can see what I see?
It's plain as the nose that's on your face.
It's absolutely clear to me
Your attitude is pure disgrace.

The way you do the things you do
Undoes the things that you want done.
You go through life without a clue
There's any more to life than fun.

I'm sure I know what's best for you.
I've seen it all on Dr. Phil.
I talk until my face is blue.
You do it all the wrong way still.

You know you ought to do it my way.
It is, of course, the super high way.

I'd write a sonnet with impressive lines
if I had impassioned things to say.
I'd make a stab at sweet designs,
But that would very soon betray

My lack of poet's license guise,
And dearth of any flowery phrase.
In truth, my awful stumbling tries
Would surely bring dismay, and raise

A question why I dare pursue
A phantom dream I can't fulfill.
No doubt by now you know it's true.
I am no poet. Rest easy, Will.

My sonnet is no masterpiece.
I hope it's not a disaster piece.