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Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 03-June 09:32:19 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 8008
[catid] => 1
[aid] => Mick
[title] => Doors
[time] => 2002-12-05 16:40:00
[hometext] => This is a metaphor for what's left in my life.
~Jaime Moran~ [bodytext] => The miniature gaurd holds the door, That threatens to burst outward. His job defends villages along the shore, Holding back what could hurt humans more. For days something's been hidden, Behind those unyeilding doors, But the villagers are guilt ridden, For the terror that guard must live in. Nobody knows what is behind those doors, Except the woman who lived inside, And though she wanders the lonely shores, She's terrified to touch the tainted doorway floors. All that is unyeilding must someday give, And hard as he could, he couldn't stop The doors from unleashing on all that live, Deepest dispair against weak initiative. Salty Tears, Rampaging Fears, Guilty Pain, Nothing to Gain, Self Damnation, ***** Frustration. [comments] => 3 [counter] => 176 [topic] => 13 [informant] => yellow_sundragon [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => DarkPoetry )
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