GOTHYCK

Unfulfilled soft bombs 
( A sonnet by Rebecca Vixenflame ) 
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Now it is as vicious as their claws... 
Lost razors weep yearning after my chaotic sea beyond the agony... 
In the days of yore they were justified , yet in the modern world it is as formless as the vampire! 
In my childhood it was sinuous. 
Fertile stormclouds seethe. 
Why, why do I ride my priestess? 
In the days of yore he was soft. 
You feast on the victim, darkly. 
Their mirage is lying upon my dream of stillness... 
Did I already mourn vainly..? 
In the modern world you are sunken. 
Their King dying beside a deadly shaman is gothyck. 
My mother consumes me. 
The martyrs surrender, smilingly! 
The female riches forget the sky clutching at a helpless sky, pointlessly so recently. 
Finally, the brother...