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Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 29-May 17:36:58 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 158215
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => The Ruins
[time] => 2010-03-16 17:14:06
[hometext] =>
[bodytext] => It wasn’t always this way, But things aren’t always clear. And time has a way, And sadness seems so near. It lurks in cold dark places, And steals piece by piece, Peering through the keyholes, Of the mind with no release. And who really cares, For you or your demise? Not you, nor time, nor God, And you’ve found, not even the wise. I mostly stay in the ruins, It’s quiet and nothing is asked. There the answer lies. And there you remove your mask. So now what’s left - Death? Is that life’s final door? Yet that’s what I’ve concluded, So that’s what I hope for. [comments] => 1 [counter] => 228 [topic] => 13 [informant] => rfburn [notes] => Corrected spelling as requested ~ Moderator_18 Mar 16, 2010 [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 4 [ratings] => 1 [editpoem] => 0 [associated] => [topicname] => DarkPoetry )
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