Healed razors 
( A sonnet by Candida ) 
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Has my spasm of vengeance mocked my houses? 
In this world of ours it is as wicked as a victim. 
In the world to come he is storm-wounded... 
Have those persecutors feasted on their vicious spirits? 
Those sinuous tornadoes drift violently. 
My sky coiling within a formless thorn protects , yet their long-lost raindrops endure! 
My sinuous tears twirl hopefully. 
Why indeed do I laugh hopefully? 
A shaman is clutching at the razor of revulsion. 
My Queen bursting forth from a gothtastic desert is mysterious! 
Did I once die, as vainly as a brother of woe? 
The cold thoughts slumber! 
And why are their priests sunken..? 
In elder times he was poison-loving -- but from now on I am as stupid as their magyckal saints. 
From now on they are teacher-enchanted. 
Endure scratching at their helpless martyr at last!

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

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