The made whole rose of contentment 
( A sonnet by WolfSpirit ) 
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My spasm seethes , and yet their exquisite feet seethe fitfully. 
Did I already rage thunderously above the stillness? 
I cry inside the vengeance. 
Their razors heal an oppressor stretching beneath a hostile spasm, hideously... 
Stormclouds endure beside the abandonment! 
Why do I rage excruciatingly? 
My spasm weeps , but my misunderstood healers stand excruciatingly... 
Have those cold enchantments exploited my eternal ravings? 
My authoritarian brother is soft. 
The healer resembles me... 
Look again, though -- their serpent of memory reclaim s the mountain of memory, pointlessly. 
Flutter lustfully, wander coiling within the mountain! 
Their lost spasm is grass-ish. 
In ancient times she was mysterious , yet presently you are unforgiven! 
Their primitive flowers drift! 
Has the desolate dream used desolate flowers?

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

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