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Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 09-June 21:14:57 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 95142
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Streets of broken dreams
[time] => 2005-05-20 16:04:22
[hometext] =>
[bodytext] => Down the streets of dust, on the blanket of cold, lies a dead heart, decaying of old. By this heart, sits a man, holding it like its own, moaning and groaning, nurturing the poor soul. By this heart, sits a soul, pondering where this heart will go, pondering, thinking of times of old, where are the streets of gold... Late, cold, dark, hollow... nights. Suffocating in your own mind of fright, breathing heavily, heart pulsing to a stop, so let go and let the pencil silently drop. [comments] => 1 [counter] => 173 [topic] => 13 [informant] => Kellros [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 4 [ratings] => 1 [editpoem] => 0 [associated] => [topicname] => DarkPoetry )
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