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Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 29-May 15:46:18 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 125951
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Cycle Breaking
[time] => 2006-09-19 13:04:10
[hometext] =>
[bodytext] => Standing in the playground Waiting to be picked up Is somebody comming? I must be out of luck Maybe if I start walking? I might meet on the way? So if I start to walk I do not have to stay This morning was all silent Sat as quiet as a mouse I know they have been fighting I heard them all last night Maybe Dad isn't comming? Maybe mom has thrown him out? It wouldn't be the first time She'll let him back no doubt Dad was out drinking He came back to our house Told me to stop crying As he shouted with a pout My arms are all acking Bruised as black as coal I think it must be my fault For not doing as I'm told I stand here in the playground Thinking about my life Would I be in the same bound When I'm married to my wife? [comments] => 2 [counter] => 259 [topic] => 21 [informant] => MarcRob [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 10 [ratings] => 2 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => Lifepoems )
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