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Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 10-June 21:57:57 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 36220
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Redbird
[time] => 2004-02-25 00:09:47
[hometext] =>
[bodytext] => Your pages, made of plastic, are turning, now drastic, you are burning, by the book. When you can no longer see the colours that bind, this darkness you'll find may not let you free. See the bluebirds flying overhead? (their silken feathers you're plucking) so who cares if you're ***** up? But the blackbirds, unseen, as they steal to your heart, take what you feel from the start, ..so take care... Now Rosa Lynn is lying cold, her flesh a milky white... Take solice in what she was told, scarlet petals, thorns in hand; so when the redbird, robin, comes to you, Close your eyes in Clothes of Sand. [comments] => 2 [counter] => 163 [topic] => 64 [informant] => SensitiveSoAbused [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 5 [ratings] => 1 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => ambiguous )
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