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Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 09-June 21:21:32 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 178853
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Who's counting?
[time] => 2014-07-20 19:10:12
[hometext] =>
[bodytext] => As does a wounded hero, I lament in my time of sorrow. As I sit, you stare, as I stare, you stir Stirring in me a crystalized shard of past tomorrows as I sit ever so sadly, it only then occurs. Havent I been a gracious host, may I have another? Wouldn’t I deserve a toast, even now vile toxins not so sour. Dastardly overstepping my own, clammy hands, dampened brows overzealously paying no respect to my home, fluttery innards, ever so aroused. After all I don’t know if its true, I may be the one to blame, taken too far, so far yet still too close Overhaul, it needn’t be a shame so far, so far I have the most. [comments] => 1 [counter] => 310 [topic] => 64 [informant] => flex4life13 [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => ambiguous )
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