Board Thread:Writer's Workshop/@comment-9967354-20141112101845

I was asked to review a sonnet not very long ago (yesterday), and I realised that I haven't once managed to write one myself. I've tried, of course, but unsuccessfully. So today, after hours of effort, I did it. And like most of everything I write, it somehow manages to fit into the category of creepypasta.

This one is actually about a tree I saw in school that didn't quite branch along the Fibonacci numbers. I have no idea how that works, though... is it the number of branches? Is it the length between each branch? Idk.

When I wrote it, of course, it wasn't anything related to what I actually saw. The idea behind sonnet is along the lines of humanity and cruelty and fur/timber is murder and stuff. Also, insanity and greed. It's a lot more if you over-analyse it. But that's the reader's job.

Also, I can't think of a title. And I'm more than sure I have a very flawed pentameter. So help me out.

A little patch of green: the cloth that hides The trees from sight. From what I see, this tree; This rebel tree defies the law which ties The world with knots. The rebel tree is free.

Its bark is worn from nature's tired try. Its roots are firm; they hold it to the sand. Its breathing branches reach up to the sky. The oldest tree; the wisest in the land.

It seems symbolic for humanity. And broken patterns; sanity. And I... And I am glad it has been found by me To be cut down and kept away, safely.

For the unnatural rebel tree, if found, Will be condemned to hell and burned to ground! 