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Array
(
[sid] => 84078
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Untitled7
[time] => 2005-02-12 02:55:02
[hometext] => ~To the girl who won't give up! We are aspirations, condone the small steps, they are the greatest~
[bodytext] => I watched your pores expand The weight of your tears seeping in The explosion of life On that pale slate, sheltered from the weather The storms that pass swiftly over you Now you’re wiping the remains The remembrance of grief Fresh and new, all so suddenly stale Like the cut on your wrist You brush the lingering tear off your cheek Your screaming veins, begging to bleed Cursing you for abandonment I condone your new found strength I glorify the crucifix that changed you The scars are identical and somehow different The tears are the same and yet they flow deeper Farther than ever before They are the wings in which you take flight with They enable you to release and condemn They are the sight in your eyes The reality is, the storms do not linger as the tear They do not discriminate against the cursing wrist They embrace the strength of release and condemnation They give the wings a place to fly free It is the storm that calms the unattained power Of the blade under the flashlight The holding of the breath as the skin separates And leaves the slate identical to the crucifix Yet somehow different Not deep enough to take flight from condemnation [comments] => 1 [counter] => 190 [topic] => 55 [informant] => weepingprophet [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => dedicatedpoems )
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