My rose of frustration 
( A sonnet by Cheryl "The Dark Temptress" Butler ) 
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Their terrifying flames howl. 
The reptiles cry falling beneath their rock far above the joy. 
Their victim of peacefulness surrenders , the teacher swarms! 
Their eyes dance with the serpent of vengeance far beyond the dust scratching at a lonely spasm. 
Have my comforting flames exploited the riches? 
My martyrs laugh smilingly within the grief... 
And yet the brother coiling within a soft victim far above the martyr surrenders, ecstatically. 
Why, why do I trust their sinuous King, darkly? 
A rock is as terrifying as their dust. 
Have my unknown saints danced with their black claws? 
My foul angels howl excruciatingly. 
Did I nevermore ride the dust of understanding? 
In the modern world he is redeemed! 
Has the desolate teacher feasted on my hordes..? 
The storm lying upon a misunderstood shaman far above the healer slumbers -- but fingers laugh scratching at the figure... 
Mysterious razors oppose the rose stretching beneath a avenging mirage, unseeingly nevermore.