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Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 03-June 08:00:19 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 28052
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Hurting
[time] => 2003-11-27 03:13:10
[hometext] => I am not killing myself or anything...I just found this in my poetry book one day and I don't really remember writing it. But oh well.
[bodytext] => Why is there so much pain inside? Everyday emotions collide. I need some help, I need some pills. Even if it's me they kill. Its either pills or a knife. One of them will end my unhappy life. A knife would hurt but I like the pain. All I would have to do is slice a vein. The blood would be dripping while I was dying. And on the inside I would still be crying. A cry for help from anyone. But its to late, my life is done. Now in a pool of my own blood I lay. As if waiting for the next day. When someone would see me laying there. And then maybe someone will finally care. [comments] => 3 [counter] => 408 [topic] => 6 [informant] => Breezer08 [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 25 [ratings] => 6 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => AngryPoetry )
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