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Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 29-May 16:45:39 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 28449
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Is this my calling?
[time] => 2003-12-02 13:37:38
[hometext] => A story about a victim of paranoia who has reached breaking point
[bodytext] => As I run, fist clenched, heart pumped, skin open, I find my self dancing upon the two sides of my conscience, they are fighting... fighting.... fighting..... but what for? why conflict? The sky is cold, the air is dark, I lay in a ball clenched up like a tight clenched fist (or something). I lay like a ball of cotton wall.... like a purpose with no destination. People glare at me..... sadistic nobodies. I have no time for them analyzing my breakdown or my paranoia. They know nothing, how could they? They are ALL against me? I grab a pen through the terror... this is my calling. They said. I notice through the crowd that you were there... [comments] => 2 [counter] => 146 [topic] => 43 [informant] => broken-glass [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => oops )
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