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Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 10-June 21:04:25 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 157121
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Chilled Out
[time] => 2010-01-31 15:31:11
[hometext] => This is about my cutting habbits, and suicidal tendencies.
[bodytext] => The chilled blade presses Into my skin, And little beads of blood Form at the site of contact As my wrist decays and suffers In this time of such agony. I lick the bloody mess away Like a mother and her Kitten. I close my eyes in contentment As the freezing hands Of death choke my heart away. I exhale and see my breath simmer In the air. Cold. It is very cold here. Yet, my life is a mess of burning hell. Thriving in my mind is A colony of depression And nonchalance in the matter of death. Under the mighty grave and Roses in my arms, I may find my peace. [comments] => 1 [counter] => 155 [topic] => 13 [informant] => BlackandBlue [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 8 [ratings] => 2 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => DarkPoetry )
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