The thorn 
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Did I so recently disintegrate? 
I drift pointlessly, vainly.
 
Long ago he was exquisite , though still in the modern world he is grass-wounded. 
Have those terrifying spirits defied those totemic saints..?
 
In my childhood they were torn apart , but presently I am formless. 
Twirl darkly, seethe!
 
The werebeast through the primitive healer rides me... 
Did I still endure lustfully?
 
You call to my poison of desolation. 
The gothyck fool is as abandoned as the figure lurking under the storm stamping on a lonely King.
 
You dance with their bat of revulsion, thunderously. 
Those memories drift reaching above a formless mirage hiding behind the heartache so recently.
 
Wolfvamp123@basingstoke_insurance.co.uk

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

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