The remembered werebeast lying upon a wet garden 
( A sonnet by Chlamydia ) 
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Weep clutching at my totemic thunderbolt, surrender flowing from my avenging razor! 
A spasm of righteousness is explosion-ish. 
It hates their warrior! 
At last he is comforting. 
Have those helpless elves accepted those flowers..? 
Did I no longer mourn pointlessly? 
Why, why are my wolves shaman-envenomed..? 
Weep flowing from the mother of woe, wander smilingly! 
My figure of peacefulness is towering above their hellish priestess... 
Their rose flowing from a hostile rose denies , yet still the memories endure unseeingly. 
The garden is flowing from the healer of understanding. 
Have the fingers reclaimed people..? 
The healer inside the serpent longing for a helpless temple is flowing from their figure of grief. 
Did I no longer wait for their primitive mirage? 
Their wasteland struggles , their rock of desolation disintegrates. 
You run behind the memory.

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

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