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Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 29-May 18:39:27 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 166495
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => The Dead Writer
[time] => 2011-06-07 13:39:58
[hometext] =>
[bodytext] => I once thought a poem could stir a man's soul, Take a man to the sky, take another into a hole. I once thought a poem could make a blind man see clear, Cure a man of a broken heart, make a deaf man hear. I once thought a poem could speak for a troubled brain, Talk a man from the edge of a cliff, drive another insane, But now my brain is empty, now my brain is numb, I'm searching in the depths of my soul, but the words will not come, I now think a poem is just recycled words, everything has been said, As I put down my pen, I hang my empty head. I now think the pen is a sword, but I am no fighter, Yours sincerely, The Dead Writer. [comments] => 1 [counter] => 310 [topic] => 13 [informant] => theurbanpoet [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 5 [ratings] => 1 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => DarkPoetry )
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