Array ( [sid] => 181516 [catid] => 1 [aid] => mick [title] => The Arms of Imagination [time] => 2015-08-03 03:01:36 [hometext] => the 1st 2 line was the last to come to me and made this a totally different poem [bodytext] => How can the arms of imagination be so warm,
While in a dream with happiness in her form,
But the light shines too late,
Killing what could be fate,
And feeding the mental rape,
Of which there is no escape,
From this nightmare glistening,
When I'm the only one listening,
To the world ran by the dead,
That lives inside my head. [comments] => 4 [counter] => 198 [topic] => 13 [informant] => lonelywolf04 [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => DarkPoetry ) Your Poetry Dot Com - The Arms of Imagination


The Arms of Imagination
Date: Monday, 3rd August 2015 @ 03:01:36 AM AEST
Topic: Sad Poetry

Contributed By: lonelywolf04
How can the arms of imagination be so warm,
While in a dream with happiness in her form,
But the light shines too late,
Killing what could be fate,
And feeding the mental rape,
Of which there is no escape,
From this nightmare glistening,
When I'm the only one listening,
To the world ran by the dead,
That lives inside my head.

This poem is Copyright © lonelywolf04


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