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Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 12-June 07:11:06 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 88497
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => The little wooden woman dancing in the music box.
[time] => 2005-03-23 18:05:25
[hometext] =>
[bodytext] => A slow crawl, cries the little box upon thy dusty shelf. (The wooden woman dances.) It slows, it stops, and in the dark...it plays again. (She's not allowed to stop.) But as this new tune starts, the effect is not quite the same. Thus play's the melody of those who were lost (The fallen children who lost their names, when their eye's shut.) Everytime it plays. (And if someone is around.) It takes another child, to darkness with the music as it slows down. And cobwebs though it's covered, and even as dust swallows it up. I don't think it will be soon, when this little box stops. In the daylight when it's playing, the old song that's always on the tongue of the older ladies and gents...the little wooden woman smile's, and dances as she feels fit. But in the night, when the tune grows cold... The wooden woman's laughter is harsh and cruel. And that's the last thing the children hear... before they leave this world. [comments] => 1 [counter] => 159 [topic] => 13 [informant] => ForeverAndADay [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 5 [ratings] => 1 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => DarkPoetry )
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