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Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 12-June 20:35:02 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 131964
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Release
[time] => 2007-02-21 18:11:14
[hometext] =>
[bodytext] => Disappointed self-referential bull*****, Once clearly not enough: struck down each and every time. There’s only so many… He doesn’t feel sad. There’s something inside him that almost prevents it. Like a knot deep in the pit of me. Not sure what it is, but it’s that which hurts. Less a pain to be feigned, more a dull ache. And he feels like he should be, but not because he is but because he should be. I don’t think I am. I may be quite relieved, actually. Awkward for a while but eventually forgotten. Is freedom an acquired taste? But we’re not doing it again: he can come to me, he will have to, won’t he? Because I cannot find him. He cannot find me. [comments] => 2 [counter] => 191 [topic] => 63 [informant] => precious123 [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => hbadday )
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