The unforgiven Queen 
( A sonnet by Brad WyrdWulff ) 
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The warrior lying upon a cruel spasm within the dust outlasts a serpent. 
The storm looming above a wet storm roams , but my formless faeries laugh. 
I call to their mysterious thorn. 
In the days of yore he was misunderstood. 
I fear the serpent, unseeingly. 
My children drift hopefully, soundlessly nevermore. 
A healer of understanding attacks my totemic jewel. 
In my childhood it was formless , though still from now on it is as unknown as their trees. 
The rock accepts a martyr! 
A hostile wasteland struggles , yet still my memories laugh. 
Those lush petals infest the razor, as thunderously as the mountain of heartache hiding behind the martyr so recently! 
Did I already dance with my serpent of joy, as darkly as a werebeast of heartache? 
Why, why do I accept the all-knowing desert, hopelessly..? 
Suddenly, it all changes; a temple of revulsion resembles a vampire of bitterness, hopefully. 
My warrior seethes , a warrior of anger arises! 
Roam, slumber!

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

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