Who Will Conclude Our Crowd-Sourced Sonnet?

We need line 14. . . Please submit your candidate here

The sonnet so far:

How like a prison is my cubicle,
And yet how far my mind can freely roam:
From gaol to Jerusalem, Hell to home.
Freedom ends or starts with a funeral.

Say what must die inside that I may not
Cast down this die and cross the Rubicon,
Thence to the true hell: the heat in Tucson
Where drug lords blaze loads of coke, meth, and pot.

Freedom starts or ends with a funeral.
I once watched men with Uzis guard the Pope
No hope, no hope, no hope, no hope, no hope.

What buzz can cheer this gloomy canticle?
Redemption is a swift revolving door

http://theamericanscholar.org/help-us-write-a-sonnet-line-thirteen/#.U86EW2OTMSk

Comments

[Norman Stokc]

The hope of which is not worth hoping for.