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Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 09-June 21:50:40 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 176409
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Sting of it
[time] => 2013-06-30 16:32:11
[hometext] => Gutters and stars
[bodytext] => I have nothing. Want nothing, will nothing. I dream of further fields. Reap and sow. That place no nearer than fights in the street. There is that place maybe not bound here. Heaven, paradise and solitude, what ways we title something we cannot find. My heart searches, lit chambers, believes it is here. In the eyes of strangers, whispers of dead men, movement of cold hands. Maybe half the battle is being here to see it through, the last gasp might tell me how to win the war. So lend me my fate, you can have the rest. Soldiering day to day, room to dusty room. Waiting for the final bell, the final shot. Wipe sweat from my brow, blood from these hands. Cherish life, until the day you die. [comments] => 2 [counter] => 138 [topic] => 21 [informant] => Tferguson [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => Lifepoems )
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