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Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 29-May 17:01:24 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 33364
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Jack in the Box-Pop Goes the Weasel
[time] => 2004-01-31 20:06:01
[hometext] =>
[bodytext] => Twinkling sounds of agony, Slow notes postponed for the next hand, And what a surprise I see. Looking upon what I know you are, Lifting and holding, turning and looking, I feel your designs, your pretty paints. It reminds me of what's hiding, Hiding inside with it's pains. Cold, dark, damp inside, With no more room to move. A crowded space with my whole body, But not as if to hide. Entire days, months...or years, Of my coming-forth rely, On the hand that nears. So pretty...I like pretty things, A box, yes, but a treasure too. Colors and flashes of glitter and hope, And a small little handle on the side, What a great place to reside. In the flashy colors and great soft music, What a great place to reside. And yet it's beauty is a shell, For the one inside who lives in Hell. Stuck in the spot for most of it's life, Waiting and waiting for daylight. [comments] => 0 [counter] => 270 [topic] => 48 [informant] => calista [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => EmotionalPoetry )
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