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Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 03-June 06:43:11 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 105842
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => The Forest is Writhing in Waves of Uncertainty
[time] => 2005-09-16 20:55:52
[hometext] => Bound with the art of confusion and other worthless things...
[bodytext] => Tore a page from a book and I bound it to a tree Surely sweet Susie it was an extension of me Bound with the art of confusion and other worthless things It was everything I’ve been and it’s what I’ll likely be It made the yellow leaves of autumn turn to sickly crimson reds Passing souls covered their eyes and with the days last light they fled At the memory of those written words they tossed and turned in bed I never knew such honesty caused minds to stir with dread My eyes they burn like fever and this fever is my home I hide among the forests floor where tiger-lilies grow Gazing at ‘my everything’ from many months ago The confession that was scribbled there, “I didn’t even know.” [comments] => 1 [counter] => 186 [topic] => 13 [informant] => rockergirl94 [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 0 [associated] => [topicname] => DarkPoetry )
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