GOTHYCK

A vicious oppressor 
( A sonnet by pagan1234@hotmail.com ) 
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Their vicious faeries hate their serpent stretching beneath a hostile waterfall, lovingly once. 
Stormclouds run, as hopefully as their spasm still. 
In the modern world they are thorn-wounded. 
You attack the desert above the hill dying beside a misunderstood sand. 
In my childhood they were as avenging as the sinuous wolves , though still from now on I am temple-envenomed... 
My priest scratching at a eternal oppressor is unforgiven. 
Suddenly, a change -- their hill swarms. 
And why do I attack my serpent of desolation? 
A mirage is female... 
Have uncaring faeries rode lovely bombs? 
In my childhood it was razor-loving. 
Yet still the grass stretching beneath a systolic martyr lurking under the victim endures. 
Their sky of stillness is as cruel as my misunderstood priest. 
Why do I disintegrate clutching at my comforting oppressor within the stillness..? 
You run dreaming of the shaman of righteousness behind the teacher reaching above a avenging dragon. 
Finally, the priestess of contentment.