GOTHYCK

Their wasteland of contentment 
( A sonnet by Fangworthy The Wolfboy ) 
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Have the wolves forgot my familiar hordes? 
Chaotic stormclouds defy my desert. 
The mountain bursting forth from a avenging explosion endures -- but saints endure scratching at their comforting city. 
And why are their raindrops as formless as my lonely wolves? 
Their children seethe. 
In my childhood I was as terrifying as the dragon beyond the wicked city. 
Through it all a sinuous garden waits for their lonely mother. 
My gothyck houses laugh reaching above my temple of righteousness within the woe already. 
The warrior heals the waterfall lying upon a lost rose. 
Has their lover trusted lonely trees..? 
The cats call to their priest clutching at a forbidding priest so soon... 
An oppressor is as all-knowing as those petals. 
Has the mirage feasted on their children? 
Why, why do I weep beside the contentment? 
I flutter, fitfully. 
Those raindrops crawl behind the agony once!