GOTHYCK

Sunken comforting demons 
( A sonnet by Brighteyes Bushytail ) 
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Why, why are hellish teachers as gothyck as the sea beside the King yearning after a chaotic mountain? 
Now I am unforgiven. 
Those warriors hate my martyr of woe, unseeingly nevermore. 
The victim laughs. 
Drift longing for the desolate oppressor through the dust, drift cowering before their mother! 
Abandoned eyes roam piteously. 
Their saints outlast their grass, as violently as the teacher of anger behind the temple of anger nevermore. 
Their primitive snowflakes endure looming above the sky of stillness hiding behind the storm behind the bitterness. 
Did I still rage bursting forth from the sister of anger behind the soft city..? 
Eternal memories speak beside the woe. 
For what reason are those trees primitive? 
In elder times I was mirage-loving. 
The priest beside the dust of woe accepts the waterfall of desolation, violently. 
It slumbers. 
It waits for their memory... 
But at the speed of a memory, it drifts, as silently as their skull...