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Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 29-May 15:42:09 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 26645
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Holding blanks
[time] => 2003-11-07 12:26:54
[hometext] => First line funny means odd.
[bodytext] => It's always struck me as funny Watching another try, try so hard that they die inside. Cunning and hurtful they were odd to see them breakdown and cry. Ignoring their very own heart led to more pain than caused. I've let them all cry, sobbing against me in angst. Ironic though now, that I can't cry for me. Been told many times, just to be selfish. They all try to say that it's finally my turn. How can that be, when I don't breath. I can't seem to find it while they gently coo. Grown so cold over years. Yearning for anything while always putting others first has earned me nothing. Nothing of what I need anyway. The book of the faulty phoenix [comments] => 2 [counter] => 155 [topic] => 43 [informant] => cobalt [notes] => (Edited for spelling.) [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => oops )
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