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Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 29-May 13:42:09 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 158708
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => The Burnt Angels of Bygone Times
[time] => 2010-04-06 19:40:59
[hometext] =>
[bodytext] => Everything is starting to make sense Wait...I'm afraid it's not I've turned a skin thing Through the gates of ill-repute Voices louder and louder, then go mute I've found (out) you're not (who) You claim to be!!! Please echo the crowd's displeasure Conduct the finite symphony towards a different measure Get this lost thing away We can't have it ruining our Last Days I said "Leave them to fend for themselves" She'd have known their future if only she could really tell An Oracle or a false prophet You held the truth, then you dropped it I've been (opened) in my (mind) I've found out the liar's symphony Is needling through, producing unpleasant dreams I've found (out) you're not (who) You claim...none of us are who we claim to be [comments] => 2 [counter] => 206 [topic] => 13 [informant] => Lee [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 9 [ratings] => 2 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => DarkPoetry )
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