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Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 10-June 22:25:29 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 182738
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Harbinger
[time] => 2016-03-08 03:12:32
[hometext] =>
[bodytext] => Ten thousand pale white horses like lightening hooves the sound of thunder battling to reach the frontlines. Somewhere ravens hover in concentric circles to feast on the nations. Somewhere scorched earth is quenched by blood and the ocean/'/s a burial ground overflowing from the mass. And I’m on top of a mountain somewhere above the blanket of smoke looking down at the beast. I think about running into your arms Running so fast a bullet couldn’t stop me at drowning out the misery. I think about running to your arms Before the great cloud of witnesses Before the sky is split clean down the middle Before they gather in number like the sand I think about running and running and running Until I reach your fingertips. [comments] => 3 [counter] => 285 [topic] => 73 [informant] => Cathartic [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => abstract )
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