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Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 29-May 15:50:38 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 115537
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => What you said
[time] => 2006-02-27 20:45:27
[hometext] =>
[bodytext] => Sitting in the lap of life, content to rest my head, on the bosom of life and death. The line between what is real and what is a lie, paper thin now. Love bleeds into resentment, hate boiling in my veins, I want to scream, in vain. You became deaf a while ago, screams futile now. What we had was a lie, What we have now, an excuse. My reality was a lie, My lie a fantasy. I lay broken now, facing what is real. My chest, a vacant hole, that you once filled with half truths, and empty promises, now sits hollow. Waiting, begging to be freed from this pain. [comments] => 2 [counter] => 200 [topic] => 48 [informant] => Maciej [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => EmotionalPoetry )
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