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Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 29-May 15:21:30 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 26693
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Back into the desert
[time] => 2003-11-08 01:31:11
[hometext] =>
[bodytext] => The wind blows and howls. Gusting sand all in my face. Standing tall in the desert, tall yet utterly alone here. Smiling anyways, used to space. It'sok I'm used to this place. Had stopped just to listen to know that indeed I was alone. Filled with pride and no regret. Things where meant to be this way. Shame though they had to go. Can't nor won't shed a tear. Alone again to walk here, a desert of crimson red. Drenched in blood of those that are yet undead but won't live. Crazy or mad or something else. Continue to walk deeper in, should have turned back long ago back when I still had a chance. The book of the faulty phoenix [comments] => 3 [counter] => 167 [topic] => 43 [informant] => Cobalt [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => oops )
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