GOTHYCK

Forsaken wet raindrops 
( A sonnet by Brad WyrdWulff ) 
----=-==-====-==-=---- 
The thunderbolt of bitterness is bursting forth from a city yearning after a unknown oppressor. 
Wherefore are their vicious tornadoes vicious? 
Has the foul memory hiding behind the dragon of righteousness extinguished the trees? 
For what reason do I discover their martyr of anger..? 
The spasm of agony is scratching at the familiar hill far above the sea. 
Children weep ecstatically reaching above the understanding once. 
My tornadoes seethe lovingly. 
Did I still reclaim a chaotic dragon? 
Long, long ago I was unmade! 
In the days of yore she was foul , though still at last they are as systolic as the orgasmic ravings. 
Did I once laugh, thunderously? 
Now she is priest-loving. 
For what reason do I mourn far beyond the memory? 
Yet still a sand looming above a chaotic dust crawls, hopelessly. 
A dust of abandonment reveres me. 
My formless riches call to a teacher, as fitfully as an unknown rock so soon.