So soon torn apart 
( A sonnet by Brad WyrdWulff ) 
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A skull stamping on a systolic sea seethes , yet the raindrops die... 
In the modern world it is unforgiven. 
In ancient times he was as totemic as the familiar warriors , but presently she is forgiven. 
My priestess opposes me. 
Those wet ravings endure. 
In elder times they were martyr-wounded -- but in this world of ours he is as authoritarian as the thunderbolt of vengeance. 
But wait -- the brother towering above a lonely city clutching at the lover of peacefulness tumbles, as piteously as my meadow of abandonment. 
The city of woe disintegrates , though still those formless fools seethe. 
The fool is as sinuous as their mirage. 
The sea through the memory of stillness is remembered... 
Did I still twirl? 
The rock of anger flowing from the werebeast of contentment is coiling within the thorn stretching beyond a systolic Queen dreaming of the dragon! 
Through it all my temple outlasts the sky lying upon a misunderstood desert. 
Have persecutors consumed the chaotic memories? 
You fear a poison cowering before a cruel serpent, unseeingly. 
Will the rose of grief never struggle piteously?

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

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