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Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 09-June 16:29:57 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 20179
[catid] => 1
[aid] => Mick
[title] => Damn! The Dry Cleaners Are Closed
[time] => 2003-07-09 13:05:00
[hometext] => This poem is for the girl I love. May she always sparkle when she cries. And I hope the bag doesn't break. [bodytext] => I'm having trouble breathing; Breathing less each day; Day is closing in like night, and I will not be afraid; Afraid of what's behind me; Behind me, understand; Standing weak on my two feet, that belong to a different man. This man is ripping curtains; Curtains long since stained; Stained a violent, purple-brown, that will hardly go away; Away he senses passion; Passion ruffled in her breath; Breathing complications damage brain, causing sudden death. Death to the informers, Death to the accused, Death to blonde-hair, pretty boys, driving a Porcshe, Death to me and you. You and me were happy; Happy because we knew; Knew that no one could ever come between us; Us, meant me and you. You should have known your future; Future birthdays in a bag; Bag today and bury tomorrow; Tomorrow's not that bad. [comments] => 1 [counter] => 202 [topic] => 13 [informant] => papajfat [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => DarkPoetry )
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