Healed cold raindrops ( A sonnet by bloodpanther@furry.com ) ----=-==-====-==-=---- Wherefore are wounds as misunderstood as their wet knives..? The primitive werebeast inside the poison bursting forth from a all-knowing poison seethes, fitfully. People run! The martyr is reaching above my mysterious serpent. Why indeed are those feet as all-knowing as their indestructible sea? In the days of yore I was serpent-enchanted , though still now they are grass-imbued! It tumbles... My grass stamping on a misunderstood skull calls to me. And why are those cold wounds forsaken? I hate the sister falling beneath the dream of righteousness. I surrender, as silently as a jewel. I howl flowing from my explosion, as piteously as their spasm bursting forth from a hostile Queen... Have their lost bombs forgot fools? You forget their comforting martyr, hopelessly. Before Man it was cold , and yet in the world to come they are as formless as the healers! The pain is too great to bear , thinking about it now , in a padded cell.
Original URL: jbrowse.com (has been defunct for some time)
Wayback Machine Archive. The original Ruby code can be found there as well.