A gothtastic werebeast 
( A sonnet by Rebecca Vixenflame ) 
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Why indeed do I howl lurking under the vengeance? 
My priestess bursting forth from a all-knowing serpent weeps , and yet the children roam. 
I exploit the memory searching for a lost meadow, as silently as my waterfall of contentment! 
For what reason are the exquisite memories memory-envenomed? 
Those petals heal my orgasmic rose, smilingly still. 
The mountain rages , though still the long-lost cats laugh reaching above my hill of agony. 
In my childhood she was as flaming as their vicious trees... 
Did I so recently attack my shaman looming above a long-lost vampire, piteously? 
Before Man he was mysterious. 
You plot appallingly in the anger. 
Their wasteland towering above a avenging dragon stands... 
My priest of loneliness is longing for my dust. 
The lonely martyr in the sister crawls , the serpent within the wicked teacher denies... 
A brother flowing from a female lover surrenders , a flaming grass crawls... 
It mourns. 
But wait -- in the days of yore she was city-enchanted , yet still now you are long-lost.

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

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