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Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 29-May 13:00:02 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 38037
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => fixed purpose
[time] => 2004-03-09 21:26:43
[hometext] =>
[bodytext] => I can not move anymore. They have taken that, or I’ve given it away To some unworthy purpose. When I was ten I had moments like this, Now I’m living them. Being a fighter I must fight, Like John L Sullivan -- It’s who I am. My old ancestry should drag, Move me – force a direction. But I’m pi*s in a river, It’s who I am. A second year, a second chance, a second waste -- With every second I waste my life And all the time I can’t go mad again. I’m lazing through a haze of days Crawling by with insufferable delay. At ten I would rub my eyes and it would go, An embrace would sooth it. The gods from the past now are faces And nothing more, nothing now will make it better. For a while I believed I found a cure. You knew who I was. We both went towards the wall together– Oh Christ! To feel the importance of it. The wall comes closer with every inch But I won’t go mad again. The south soiled me With it’s love and hate. Sinful that they come in pairs The offence of it – the murder, To be left with nothing. [comments] => 1 [counter] => 156 [topic] => 13 [informant] => crap_snapper [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => DarkPoetry )
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