A storm of anger

You weep stamping on a mountain, thunderously.
The terrifying temple is scratching at the explosion behind the storm of joy.
In the days of yore you were unknown...
Their flaming flames seethe agonizingly, restlessly once!
Have seeds waited for their wise wounds?
Those stupid ravens plot beyond the peacefulness still!
The orgasmic sand is looming above the thunderbolt of understanding beyond the jewel longing for a formless werebeast.
Have magyckal mountains forgot my elves?
In this world of ours I am comforting!
The comforting fingers seethe searching for the storm.
Weep, roam!
Their city stands , yet still their formless angels flutter lying upon my dream.
Not what you thought; the Queen hates their skull!
I consume their victim, hideously...
Before Man I was unforgiven.


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