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Array
(
[sid] => 35141
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => My Kingdom Come
[time] => 2004-02-15 21:28:17
[hometext] => This poem is about looking into my storage room at all of our things just as items the movers are careless w/ and look so bland in there, and being 16 it seems like some people look at me and look away, but what happens to our stuff matters to me tooe
[bodytext] => My Kingdom Come February 15, 2004 As I stand here and look out, At my kingdom, I frown. My whole life, my being, Is before me this day, And there’s nothing I can do, But look and say, I don’t like to see you this way. My world of a home, Spread in varying boxes and piles, For miles, My kingdom is flared. And I, I am scared. These paintings from France, Hung along the halls, Are just pieces standing up agsint the cement walls. My bed frame, the lamps, Everything I knew, Is lying here, cramped. How can my whole world, my home, Fit into this little dome. My kingdom in a cube of dimensions, 60 feet by 80, And everything is shaky. As I stand here and look out, At my kingdom, I frown. To others, just things, No ties to these, These that give me wings. A home, each piece a memory, Stocked and locked behind this door, And I’m standing here, Here forever more. [comments] => 2 [counter] => 186 [topic] => 32 [informant] => calista [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => SadPoetry )
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