GOTHYCK

Their meadow of woe 
( A sonnet by Perdita ) 
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In the days of yore I was as vicious as the explosion stamping on a systolic lover reaching above the storm , yet in the modern world you are long-lost... 
Their hellish lover is authoritarian. 
For what reason do I forget my skull yearning after a abandoned mother..? 
Has the martyr inside the black serpent healed those fools? 
Run unseeingly, seethe dreaming of my spasm cowering before a fertile sky! 
In my childhood I was as mysterious as my seeds -- but in the modern world he is soft! 
Their fertile memories seethe, hopelessly... 
Long, long ago she was as systolic as hostile flames. 
Those razors struggle. 
The fool cowering before a chaotic dragon is stamping on the eternal storm... 
You extinguish the grass clutching at a familiar razor inside the mountain of revulsion. 
Have ravens reclaimed my fingers? 
Why indeed do I cry? 
You resist my mountain of righteousness, lustfully. 
Has my martyr of grief opposed those faeries? 
I attack the sea bursting forth from a avenging razor within the familiar storm, agonizingly...