Their primitive Queen 
----=-==-====-==-=----
 
It outlasts their chaotic saint, hopefully. 
In the modern world you are torn apart.
 
In this world of ours she is as avenging as their dragon. 
But wait -- a brother calls to a thunderbolt of frustration, soundlessly.
 
I rage, appallingly. 
Why indeed are the hellish demons avenging?
 
Those demons endure longing for the King inside the grass beside the joy. 
I disintegrate stamping on the mirage of revulsion.
 
In ancient times she was cold , though still in this world of ours they are sister-like... 
I die violently behind the grief.
 
Did I nevermore flutter unseeingly above the peacefulness? 
Their King is stamping on the healer!
 
Vampcat@furry.org

Original URL: jbrowse.com (has been defunct for some time)

Wayback Machine Archive. The original Ruby code can be found there as well.