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Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 10-June 19:43:23 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 134485
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Mistaken/ Part 2
[time] => 2007-05-18 23:44:17
[hometext] =>
[bodytext] => Here I stand with my sword in hand Controling my life at risk The village is mad, and after me I take my stand and ball my fist I am ready to kill and that i will To whomever walks through thy door I feel no pain but I sustain I cant take it anymore My love was hanged her skin too soft For standing up to the thrown His throat was surely slit His queen now sits alone He kills my love, I'll kill his own Then I will be king on the thrown In my cabin I sit and think of a plan to use I'll hang the queen in front of town, for my personal amuse The village will worship no one but me chanting words while on there knees When they do wrong they'll beg me please "To the dungeon," I will say with ease I am Archilles the Great So you will surely fill my plate Now who shall I choose to help me out Some one that will not open there mouth Cause' if they do I'll kill them too If you do, I will surely kill you. [comments] => 1 [counter] => 212 [topic] => 39 [informant] => ihop [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 13 [ratings] => 3 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => Grief )
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