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Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 03-June 08:50:35 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 133235
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => dying anonymous
[time] => 2007-04-02 23:13:29
[hometext] =>
[bodytext] => stranger land was where he died the road was long high was the tide No one there knew his name it didn't matter he had fame a stranger to his stranger land buried into stranger sands no one even held his hand as he took his last one breathe Tears were scarce no one made a fuss The melancholic withering of a man in a strange land there is no murderer coming to repent no books of instructions no proper strange traditions to adhere to. He was simply blasted into no limbs no head no skeleton but pure sand and ash and dirt merged with the organic soil and sent to interwine with the origins the land he once toiled. [comments] => 2 [counter] => 216 [topic] => 43 [informant] => glassicallyunsuperficial [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 6 [ratings] => 2 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => oops )
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