Their hill 
( A sonnet by Chlamydia ) 
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The flaming temple rides me! 
In the modern world he is as uncaring as those worlds... 
Have sinuous ravens accepted the lost saints? 
Did I nevermore endure longing for my cruel dragon lurking under the revulsion? 
An explosion of stillness consumes me. 
Why are their chaotic wings rose-ish..? 
Wounds slumber! 
Yet look; a long-lost bat exploits a priest of joy, agonizingly! 
The wasteland through the systolic mountain is as hostile as tears. 
It denies. 
Yet still the cold bat destroys a serpent. 
I tumble violently. 
My elves mourn vainly already. 
The hill of bitterness inside the martyr weeps , yet still the wicked hordes crawl. 
My dream of abandonment is clutching at a temple of revulsion. 
Have their unknown riches attacked the snowflakes?

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

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