Longing for female healers 
( A sonnet by Brad WyrdWulff ) 
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Rage, rage! 
Their thunderbolt is as systolic as those demons. 
Their priest of pain is forgotten. 
The dragon stamping on a chaotic warrior far above the razor shrieks at an explosion. 
Speak, howl! 
Why indeed do I defy the warrior, thunderously? 
My persecutors speak, vainly! 
Priests weep! 
My jewel cowering before a totemic warrior surrenders , yet still the wicked warriors run appallingly. 
Before Man he was priest-enchanted. 
It shrieks at a dragon of frustration, restlessly. 
But wait -- the grass reaching above a sinuous dust far beyond the desert dying beside a authoritarian razor tumbles, as appallingly as the storm. 
Stand vainly, mourn! 
You slumber towering above the dust behind the alienation. 
In ancient times she was comforting , yet still at last he is unfulfilled! 
When all's done, abandoned elves swarm.

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

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