GOTHYCK

Justified knives 
( A sonnet by heathen_heather ) 
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Their fool of revulsion is scratching at the flaming priestess far above the mysterious werebeast. 
The King of memory is indestructible! 
It flutters. 
For what reason are my razors as desolate as those fingers? 
In my childhood it was as lonely as the desolate memory , though still in this world of ours you are long-lost... 
Wherefore do I slumber? 
Wherefore are shamans gothyck? 
I arise dying beside the garden, hopelessly. 
My abandoned fireflies slumber still. 
Long, long ago she was as lonely as my meadow longing for a lonely sister , though still in the modern world you are as long-lost as their teacher. 
It mourns, darkly. 
For what reason are the deadly enchantments unforgiven..? 
Has the lonely healer lurking under the flaming grass infested the petals? 
My rainbow flowing from a abandoned desert tumbles , their victim seethes. 
The storm stretching beneath a vicious desert within the teacher discovers me. 
Wherefore are worlds as cold as my skull?