GOTHYCK

A gothyck thorn 
( A sonnet by Severina ) 
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Has my thunderbolt destroyed the flaming razors..? 
Werebeasts seethe beyond the bitterness no longer. 
In the modern world it is warrior-imbued. 
The storm is towering above a serpent. 
Long ago they were forsaken. 
Their desert looming above a stupid martyr is indestructible. 
You twirl, unseeingly. 
Why are magyckal shamans as systolic as a rainbow? 
In ancient times she was abandoned. 
In ancient times she was as black as the priestess. 
The eternal mirage is lying upon the memory. 
From now on he is wet. 
It slumbers, hopelessly. 
I mourn silently, piteously. 
Those eternal riches roam hopefully. 
Stand, seethe hideously!