Stamping on my soft snowflakes 
( A sonnet by pagan1234@hotmail.com ) 
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The razor forgets me. 
You ride my flaming rose, hopefully! 
The figure weeps , and yet their sinuous fingers slumber! 
Has the teacher used my persecutors? 
The wet children drift. 
For what reason do I laugh cowering before a grass..? 
I destroy the lover... 
My snowflakes drift. 
The serpent surrenders , and yet foul snowflakes speak longing for a sky of peacefulness. 
Why are black tears jewel-like? 
It crawls, fitfully. 
In a flash it changes: the hill of joy seethes, thunderously! 
I cry hopelessly behind the frustration. 
In ancient times it was comforting. 
My grass struggles, as hopefully as a temple falling beneath a cruel vampire... 
The mirage of peacefulness in the vampire of desolation drifts , the teacher within the hill slumbers.

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

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