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Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 02-June 12:21:50 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 22531
[catid] => 1
[aid] => Mick
[title] => Sweet Sense of Self
[time] => 2003-08-31 04:25:00
[hometext] => Ah public toilet poetry, I defy anyone to find someone who doesn't love it, lol.
[bodytext] => No, you cannot find My paper bullet armoury, don't be frightened It's hidden amongst The bludgeoned remains of what was once The material pride Brought by lettering engraved, with a smile now They lie. Ripped, ink smearing, flesh adhering to My heart, blood soaked poems, lost all need and point at the moment I began to bleed. Blood dries, papers survive,words live on But where I am, my sweet, I am gone. A constant that I never knew, paranoid dillusionsof auxillery demons spoil Potential greatness of life versus death. It's Out of my hands, not the blade but battle As blood rushes from my open wound Death comes soon You look at my eyes with such distaste As they sit open, dormant a waste of nothing. Know now, beyond any doubt That places itself in thy head, now I can be free to love you, now I'm dead. Allowed you my paper bullet kiss Goodbye, with motives selfish So that I may linger on as more Than the hair sticking to a cold forehead, Not the cut up corpse, lying dead on the floor. [comments] => 2 [counter] => 226 [topic] => 36 [informant] => crimson_purity [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => Suicide )
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