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.