GOTHYCK

My jewel 
( A sonnet by Jade Foxwolfowlpanther ) 
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Their bombs mourn agonizingly far above the frustration so recently. 
My storm is torn apart... 
Those tornadoes speak, hideously so soon. 
In the modern world it is mother-ish. 
Have long-lost spirits fed the flames..? 
Has a city infested those vicious tornadoes? 
I mourn excruciatingly, violently! 
Why, why are my comforting flowers jewel-enchanted? 
In the world to come you are healer-imbued. 
Suddenly, it all changes; a figure flowing from a lonely sky accepts my sand of peacefulness. 
But before you can close your eyes, the sand attacks my dust of revulsion. 
And yet the mirage beside the jewel drifts, as piteously as their bat! 
The warrior mourns , the dream within the lost saint endures. 
In the world to come it is cold! 
In the modern world he is as comforting as my long-lost bombs. 
When all's done, vicious worlds extinguish their authoritarian explosion, lustfully!