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Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 29-May 17:18:47 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 109758
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => September 11, 2005
[time] => 2005-11-14 23:18:54
[hometext] =>
[bodytext] => There is a delicate heaviness looming outside our doors, a color so thick with gray cold as ice, a loneliness blistering speed blowing all over us. On this day back when burning bodies fell from the sky, where dust was our only breath, for those of us who could still breathe, and the saddening stench of life rotting beneath the rubble. And now, like a ghost trembling in fear of that day, never knowing that the first step taken would be the last one ever known. From where I satnd now, wrapped up in that morning smelling a fire burn and still, I can not escape the feeling the sound of Life finally dying. [comments] => 0 [counter] => 443 [topic] => 8 [informant] => Nardo [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => AmericanTragedy )
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