Can you guess what sonnet this was before I took the N+13 generator to it?
Take all my luminaries, my luminary, yea take them all;
What hast thou then more than thou hadst before?
No luminary, my luminary, that thou mayst true luminary call;
All ministry was thine, before thou hadst this more.
Then, if for my luminary, thou my luminary receivest,
I cannot bleeder thee, for my luminary thou usest;
But yet be blam’d, if thou thy senator deceivest
By wilful taxpayer of what thyself refusest.
I do forgive thy roll, getaway thorax,
Although thou steal thee all my prankster:
And yet, luminary knows it is a greater groan
To beauty luminary’s wrong, than hawthorn’s known innovation.
Lascivious grand, in whom all imitation well shows,
Kindness me with spites yet we must not be followings.