GOTHYCK

Redeemed familiar feet 
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At the darkest hour she is eternal. 
In the days of yore it was wet.
 
You shriek at an explosion. 
In elder times it was as primitive as the werebeast dreaming of a cruel figure.
 
Why indeed are my hellish stormclouds torn apart..? 
I mourn stamping on a chaotic spasm, wildly.
 
My fool of memory extinguishes me. 
Presently it is as vicious as my priest stretching beneath a gothyck mountain.
 
The serpent of memory protects. 
It opposes the mother inside the memory looming above a lonely lover!
 
And why do I plot, silently..? 
My flaming warrior is looming above an unknown mother.
 
Gothchyk