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Array
(
[sid] => 2874
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => A THOUSAND NIGHTS
[time] => 2002-08-28 06:27:11
[hometext] =>
[bodytext] => A thousand nights, makes just one day.
A hard earned freedom, can crumble away. An hour of silence leaves nothing to say. The most truthful being can still betray. Life always makes tomorrow, an echo of today. It’s so hard to tell how much a burden will weigh. The fabric of your whole life can still tear and fray. And a thousand nights makes just one day. A wound with applied pressure, still can bleed. A prisoner held captive in himself, can always be freed. Only sharp teeth say, “don’t bite that hand that feeds.” The weakest infant still has a chance to succeed. The smallest part in the play can be considered the lead. And bad memories of the past have your whole life to recede. The smallest drop of liquid can still exceed the boundary. And a wound with pressure applied, still can bleed. A thousand nights makes just one day. And what is a clock without all its gears? What is an antique without all its years? What is a human without all his fears? And what is an eye without all its tears? The obvious isn’t as it always appears. Just look at a clock without all its gears. A thousand nights makes just one day A wound with applied pressure can still bleed. Tell me what’s real; and tell me what’s not. Tell me the story; or tell me the plot. You could tell me the world but then you forgot. Tell me what’s real; and tell me what’s not. A thousand nights makes just one day. And a thousand nights makes just one day. [comments] => 2 [counter] => 177 [topic] => 25 [informant] => Baby`Fallen`angel [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 10 [ratings] => 2 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => MiscPoems )
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