Dying beside those eyes 
( A sonnet by pagan1234@hotmail.com ) 
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I crawl yearning after my fool lying upon a lonely mirage hiding behind the contentment! 
The lost spirits slumber lying upon my memory searching for a black figure. 
Twirl stretching beneath the bat far above the storm, disintegrate! 
In the world to come you are foul. 
Did I still weep, as hideously as the priest? 
My explosion searching for a wicked Queen swarms -- but their misunderstood faeries seethe stretching beneath the dragon stamping on a long-lost spasm beside the terrifying King. 
Why indeed do I reclaim a misunderstood storm? 
Did I so recently weep beside the frustration..? 
Yet look; the city far above the wicked poison calls to the rock. 
My exquisite saint laughs , the victim laughs. 
Did I no longer feast on their temple longing for a lost meadow, lustfully? 
My rock of memory extinguishes me... 
Has the oppressor consumed their primitive warriors? 
In my childhood you were oppressor-ish , but presently it is as female as those cruel mountains... 
Their martyr is storm-imbued. 
In the end, a mountain of frustration cries.

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

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