The Scream Confined

A sonnet helps me put my mind in order,
And so I don’t experiment too much,
For I am told that I have thoughts that border
On lunacy, and more than just a touch.
So I contain myself to fourteen lines
And each line touches firmly on five beats,
And this straight regularity confines
Much as a jacket just as straight defeats.
But then the volta comes and I go mad
With those contrary thoughts that make me smile
Until the second volta leaves me sad
That all will shortly end, for down the aisle
Two quickly rhyming lines walk to be wedded
And both are just as quickly then embedded.