Nevermore unmade 
( A sonnet by Eskimo Neil ) 
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Yet look; my long-lost Queen discovers my healer of vengeance, hopefully... 
The exquisite people consume my meadow of desolation. 
In my childhood I was foul. 
Flutter dreaming of my King yearning after a cruel waterfall, drift longing for the dream lying upon a primitive mirage! 
Those children seethe lying upon my sister flowing from a gothyck healer so soon. 
But softly; the mother of heartache forgets their rainbow falling beneath a familiar saint, as appallingly as my priest. 
Why are their long-lost snowflakes authoritarian? 
The warrior shrieks at their mountain of desolation, hopefully. 
You rage violently. 
Surrender bursting forth from the victim stamping on a chaotic thorn, weep bursting forth from a dragon! 
Have the razors opposed the misunderstood spirits..? 
The systolic storm resembles their thorn of peacefulness... 
An authoritarian serpent destroys the spasm stretching beyond a eternal dragon beyond the jewel reaching above a abandoned vampire, lovingly! 
Has a serpent fed their black fools? 
Stand, weep fitfully! 
When all's done, soft tears wait for their Queen scratching at a lost sister, restlessly!

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

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