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Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 03-June 05:56:47 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 84932
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Dying to be old
[time] => 2005-02-19 02:55:19
[hometext] => always, abraham ^_^
[bodytext] => Why do I bother with this? With any of this? Every day I look out my window and I see a world full of pain. A world full of pain and anger, disease and death. Every day I open my love. I open my love and my love is my fingers my love is a weak hope trying to swallow the sea. My life is full of fear. I am afraid. I sleep and I do not think I forget and I am afraid. I cannot remember a day in my life that I actually loved anyone but myself. All I see in all of my mirrors Is a young man dying to be old All I see is an unsure face Two tired eyes weathered from tears. All i do i do for myself. My whole life I have lived unchanged. I have never felt sorry for anything that i've done. I am selfish, arrogant and cold. I destroy my own life to pity myself. To feel. To feel I drone on and on about some empty love that I pretend to love how I miss her so much. I miss nothing but the feeling. I miss nothing but the salt and sweat of her lips or her thighs. And now, now I am alone. I am alone because of what I've done what i've done inside because I did not love because I did not want to love. [comments] => 1 [counter] => 180 [topic] => 48 [informant] => iodinelove [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 9 [ratings] => 2 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => EmotionalPoetry )
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