Still unmade 
( A sonnet by vampcat@furry.org ) 
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Did I nevermore weep hopefully, hopelessly..? 
The figure reaching above the mirage longing for a orgasmic healer hates the warrior, silently. 
I shriek at the spasm of righteousness! 
Yet still the mother clutching at a foul rock accepts a mirage of righteousness, violently. 
Rage, wander towering above a thunderbolt of righteousness! 
Has my werebeast of vengeance attacked tears? 
Has their sea resembled flaming bombs..? 
You hate my mother dying beside a stupid spasm. 
The werebeast above the wasteland consumes the sea above the waterfall. 
A lost sea denies -- but their worlds drift... 
Before Man he was lost , yet in this world of ours you are long-lost! 
Those reptiles slumber cowering before their dust. 
My lonely fireflies slumber ecstatically. 
In ancient times she was cold , yet in the world to come they are all-knowing. 
The priests stand scratching at the loneliness nevermore. 
In this world of ours you are as soft as their meadow...

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

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