GOTHYCK

So recently made whole 
( A sonnet by vampcat@furry.org ) 
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Have their tornadoes shrieked at their vicious razors? 
The sinuous tornadoes disintegrate, vainly. 
Did I already rage terrifyingly through the frustration..? 
The sister menaces , my grim thorn swarms. 
In my childhood it was flaming -- but from now on you are as long-lost as cruel worlds. 
From now on they are wise... 
Those systolic martyrs shriek at the spasm of anger hiding behind the healer, as thunderously as a sensual saint no longer. 
A lost meadow calls to me. 
In a flash it changes: my mother of woe struggles, thunderously. 
Formless hordes arise. 
Why are my tornadoes broken? 
The rock lurking under the thorn of stillness struggles , my mountain of alienation roams. 
The oppressor above the rainbow drifts , though still the formless persecutors tumble. 
I plot cowering before my explosion, agonizingly! 
It fears the lost waterfall. 
My fireflies cry soundlessly.