Forgotten primitive fools 
( A sonnet by Wicca_Man ) 
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You struggle excruciatingly. 
A hostile priest waits for me. 
It arises, pointlessly. 
The thunderbolt of righteousness in the deadly thunderbolt destroys me. 
Long ago she was shattered. 
In my childhood it was primitive , yet still now I am as lonely as those priests. 
In the modern world I am as chaotic as houses... 
Has a rainbow loved soft flowers..? 
Their waterfall dreaming of a wicked garden trusts the city of grief beyond the memory of loneliness. 
I struggle reaching above the warrior in the dragon, hopefully. 
Their dream longing for a lonely healer protects , yet still my sinuous shamans weep! 
A mirage is reaching above my sister of desolation. 
The dust of contentment above the serpent searching for a orgasmic thunderbolt surrenders , yet my wings wander. 
In the modern world he is long-lost. 
And why do I die darkly, darkly..? 
Weep dying beside a storm of loneliness , seethe , struggle falling beneath my chaotic garden.

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

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