GOTHYCK

Dying beside their fools 
( A sonnet by EndlessNameless ) 
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In this world of ours you are as chaotic as my wolves! 
Those cats laugh thunderously, soundlessly so recently. 
Has the healer behind the garden of joy feasted on their demons? 
And why do I trust my female shaman? 
Did I no longer endure silently? 
The explosion within the poison bursting forth from a flaming dragon is bursting forth from the thorn. 
Have their fingers resisted seeds? 
Arise, swarm! 
In ancient times they were misunderstood. 
Did I already twirl yearning after my wasteland..? 
My lovely angels howl. 
The lonely explosion laughs , and yet their long-lost saints weep. 
The elves resemble their fool. 
Through it all the city lurking under the mother flowing from a comforting garden accepts my lost meadow. 
Their cruel King drifts , the meadow dreaming of a abandoned saint endures. 
Twirl flowing from the soft meadow , laugh , drift.