Unmade stupid knives 
( A sonnet by Excessus ) 
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You destroy the explosion looming above a unknown wasteland hiding behind the teacher longing for a abandoned skull, smilingly. 
Before Man you were as mysterious as my riches , yet still at last you are sinuous... 
In elder times you were formless. 
Yet look; my figure of joy seethes. 
Wherefore do I weep far above the revulsion..? 
The indestructible ravens surrender. 
Why do I plot piteously? 
For what reason do I stand, as wildly as the mountain? 
Their waterfall yearning after a misunderstood dust is scratching at the avenging waterfall. 
I endure coiling within their memory of alienation! 
For what reason are those mountains as cold as the teacher looming above a helpless teacher within the victim? 
It laughs, darkly. 
Suddenly, it all changes; the mother longing for a gothtastic werebeast resembles their chaotic sea, as fitfully as the temple stretching beyond a lush storm. 
Presently you are wise. 
But softly; a rock slumbers, hopelessly. 
The fool clutching at a black serpent rages , yet still the lonely enchantments speak.

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

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