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Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 29-May 17:09:27 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 152605
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Blur
[time] => 2009-08-26 18:27:51
[hometext] => Sometimes it just feels good to write, even if its not about you in the ways people would think.
[bodytext] => The soreness in your body weakens you. Your just there. Tied up in a little ball, like a open wound festering. Your body wont even let you call out in pain. It makes you suffer there by yourself. Laying on the hard floor curled up as if you were being violently kicked. Gripping so tight, so powerful that you leaving scratches and hand marks up and down your arms. It hurts. Finally you manage to get up and stubble trying to walk. Gliding about three steps you curse your way back to the floor. You make your way back to beetle position. Arms and legs are all weak but you know you have to fight to call out. Gaining enough energy you scream in pain. A blur rushes to your aid. They cant help. Picking up the phone they call 911. Helps on the way. You get taken away while the blur hold your hand tight. [comments] => 0 [counter] => 170 [topic] => 21 [informant] => BCG [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => Lifepoems )
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