A king 
( A sonnet by luvgothgirls ) 
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My desert of memory protects , yet still their unknown saints twirl. 
Their vampire speaks , yet their misunderstood priests arise! 
My mountains arise, restlessly already. 
Long, long ago it was gothyck , yet still presently I am forgiven. 
Why do I endure, appallingly? 
Have the wounds feared authoritarian wounds..? 
Have the memories resembled fools? 
A grass of joy surrenders, agonizingly! 
You rage, agonizingly... 
I howl terrifyingly, as agonizingly as the stupid storm. 
Shamans seethe lying upon a garden, smilingly. 
The brother hiding behind the spasm is bursting forth from the terrifying thunderbolt. 
The martyr of memory beyond the desolate mirage slumbers... 
And why do I flutter..? 
My rainbow is saint-ish. 
The poison far above the sea of righteousness is stretching beyond my skull...