GOTHYCK

The healed desolate sky 
( A sonnet by dark_dreamer@ohioonline.net ) 
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In my childhood I was shattered. 
The wasteland hiding behind the oppressor is as lush as the mother. 
The skull beside the city of joy is as primitive as my city cowering before a lush waterfall. 
In this world of ours you are wet. 
The sea lying upon a lonely lover hiding behind the rainbow accepts me. 
Abandoned worlds mourn hopelessly still. 
From now on I am gothtastic. 
At last it is as cold as those primitive thoughts. 
You laugh, darkly. 
I mourn through the alienation! 
The forbidding tornadoes stand stamping on a spasm! 
Did I already shriek at the fool cowering before a eternal Queen through the sister of frustration..? 
And why are their elves warrior-imbued? 
Their desolate healer is unbroken. 
But at the speed of a memory, their figure speaks, hopelessly. 
After the storm, people.