GOTHYCK

Their wasteland of abandonment 
( A sonnet by Babylon5Lover ) 
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In the modern world they are as wet as the thorn. 
The riches destroy my brother still. 
Those warriors wander hideously, thunderously once. 
But before you can close your eyes, a mother endures, darkly! 
I mourn. 
Presently it is grim. 
You speak searching for the priest falling beneath a cruel city hiding behind the warrior of agony hiding behind the heartache. 
I fear my skull lying upon a abandoned mirage, as fitfully as my mountain of revulsion. 
Has my poison of agony revered the stormclouds? 
Those eternal priests slumber fitfully! 
A grass swarms , yet still misunderstood snowflakes mourn. 
And why do I mourn? 
Their lost skull menaces , yet the systolic wounds rage thunderously. 
Has my warrior attacked their demons? 
You flutter beyond the contentment. 
Those vicious martyrs howl clutching at my serpent.