Sonnet

I was extolling myself,
I thought I attained great,
How ample was my wealth,
How wealthy was my bliss hate,
I didn't know I was brutal,
I was in jumble why came these birds,
In my mediocre field as mortal,
I was jovial to hit them by biting words,
When at home I told to grandfather,
He told they just ate weeds and he was right,
Words of experience never false never dodger,
It was savage I didn't have that right,
I rushed to my life but alas they had gone,
Then no rejoice, no enjoyment only regret and mourn.