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Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 29-May 15:57:15 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 71772
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Different
[time] => 2004-11-16 14:10:08
[hometext] =>
[bodytext] => All quiet and still alert but the moments, like dirt, stand still until the wind motivates it to go to the places it must and when it settles it's still just dust. Life is like that, blowing around sometimes controlled but sometimes not found. Just no place to go, no place to be, making drama out of necessity lingers anything but boredom in a house like mine, the entire thing an envious shrine of everything I wish was mine. Life is like that sometimes. I want to scream instead of dream about all those things. Those people, those scenes that keep me green are the most unattainable by any means. I wonder if life is like that for them sometimes... running fast but staying behind... eyes wide open but nonetheless blind... I said ''I am them, They are me'' but they are unmistakably different. [comments] => 2 [counter] => 153 [topic] => 21 [informant] => Red_October [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => Lifepoems )
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