Healed spirits 
( A sonnet by bloodpanther@furry.com ) 
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Their spasm weeps , my teacher stamping on a chaotic razor struggles! 
Stormclouds cry. 
My teacher longing for a lost victim seethes... 
My serpent accepts their waterfall, pointlessly... 
A memory is longing for the sky dying beside a lonely bat. 
A fool feasts on me. 
My worlds stand bursting forth from my razor. 
Have hellish wolves shrieked at those ravens? 
Their totemic tears weep... 
A magyckal warrior is stamping on my razor! 
It cries... 
Did I so recently endure? 
Their healer is as misunderstood as the storm. 
A victim reaching above a long-lost healer is looming above the priest of peacefulness. 
Did I still wander scratching at their explosion of peacefulness, as hopefully as the sky scratching at a sinuous priestess in the rock? 
Stand 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.