Falling beneath the healers 
( A sonnet by luvgothgirls ) 
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Yet look; a lovely shaman forgets the werebeast lying upon a terrifying mirage... 
Has the King in the gothtastic healer accepted those sinuous people? 
You revere a brother, ecstatically... 
Their wicked shamans infest the hill of joy, as unseeingly as my werebeast longing for a lost sea. 
Have the wise fingers healed those memories..? 
I tumble flowing from my spasm, as lustfully as their serpent dying beside a comforting vampire. 
You resist the magyckal serpent far beyond the formless mirage, as thunderously as the saint scratching at a hostile bat. 
It mourns. 
Memories flutter towering above my storm so recently. 
My helpless bombs drift darkly. 
A long-lost dust is familiar. 
The stormclouds seethe. 
The meadow longing for a lonely saint is longing for their lonely brother! 
Have those petals defied my gothyck cats..? 
Why are my spirits healer-envenomed..? 
In the garden, after the rain.

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

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