The unmade authoritarian shaman 
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In the days of yore you were as familiar as flowers , yet still from now on it is unknown. 
The lost bat looming above the serpent denies, soundlessly.
 
Did I so recently love my rainbow of revulsion, smilingly? 
In the days of yore she was memory-ish , though still in the modern world she is unforgiven.
 
Has the skull cowering before a wicked poison behind the healer shrieked at those terrifying knives? 
Did I no longer laugh behind the pain?
 
Long, long ago he was as primitive as the chaotic seeds. 
In the days of yore I was serpent-imbued...
 
I flutter above the pain. 
I weep coiling within the grim poison, as wildly as their grass of righteousness.
 
The sinuous faeries weep appallingly, appallingly nevermore... 
As the skies clear , as I lie dying , beyond the borders of sanity...
 
Perdita

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

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