Stoic (sonnet)

You think you have the whole world in your hand?
Well, young sage, what will you do with it?
You say logic and emotion cannot fit
And to bury your love into dead man’s land.
Your head is a bust preserved by years spanned.
Oh the day when your tough exterior will take a hit
From the little fat boy who shoots an arrow into the pit!
Alas, you may never call you heart Custer’s last stand.
But a Stoic never had shown so much concern
for my affairs…
Could it be that you have strayed from the status quo?
And your soul, like mine, yearns
For someone who cares?
Well, sorry to say to say that I already have a beaux.