The Kitchen Sonnet

We had to write a sonnet about our kitchen, I decided to write about the first time in it.

My new abode, too, bears a new kitchen
The cold wind blows within these darkened walls
But why, pray tell, did they put that switch in?
It’s so out of place here amongst it all

Heed not the switch! What of our new table?
It must be built by our bare hands it seems
Cabinets filled with plates? Too unstable
Night will be filled with our pain and our screams

Sick bastards we are, still put up a fight
Hammer the nails and screw in all the screws
Put the plates in a new spot, snug and tight
The sun now comes and shines away the blue

With dawn’s good grace has lifted ten whole tons
We rest now knowing this battle is won!