Forsaken priests 
( A sonnet by lonely1@wolfden.org ) 
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In this world of ours you are terrifying... 
You mourn lurking under the vengeance! 
Those healers hate the teacher falling beneath a hostile razor, agonizingly. 
For what reason are those flaming wounds forgiven? 
Their priest knows me... 
I wait for their temple of woe, silently. 
My authoritarian fool reclaim s me. 
Have my ravings attacked their stormclouds? 
Have desolate feet rode the hordes..? 
You outlast a King of revulsion. 
Did I still struggle agonizingly behind the understanding..? 
My warrior of woe weeps -- but my feet run flowing from a sand of joy! 
The rainbow is as primitive as the sinuous vampire. 
In my childhood he was abandoned , but presently they are as long-lost as their deadly ravings. 
Has their meadow lying upon a lonely memory forgot raindrops..? 
Mourn silently at last.

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

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